Momentum
by SirensSingg
Summary: Life...What could possibly be the meaning of life, let alone a second chance. I sure as hell didn't know. (Rating: MA. Dark themes. OC as Naruto's older sister)
1. Chapter 1: Akira and Jemma

A/N:

 ** _Yo, I'm editing the first few chapters. There are a couple slight changes, but nothing big. 1000 more words that before. Just read it the other day and realized just how many mistakes there are. Sorry bout that. (08/16/2018)_**

Since I have about 105 pages (41,100 words) of an outline for this story, I thought I'd just go ahead and post some chapters. And since I have SO MUCH already figured out, written down, this story will prob update a lot more/ faster than any of my others.

Still a bit nervous about posting this, though.

Whatever. Just fuckin read it. Fuckin ask questions if you have them. Fuckin SLAYYYY me if its shit, idc.

~Siren

* * *

 **I'm in love with an angel, heaven forbid**

* * *

 **The first four years of Akira's life were perfect. She was the sun in which her parents revolved around. Her mother, whom she often spoke of looking a lot like a princess from her story books, was _beautiful._ Her silky, red hair was fun to play with, and her kind smile lit her face up like a star in the night.**

 **Said redhead enjoyed putting her four-year-old daughter in frilly, pretty dresses. It was something Akira _loved_. She liked how pretty she looked in the dresses and how her parents would fawn over her.**

 **Her father, a strong shinobi, would read her stories before bed. In the safety of her room, he would make grand gestures with his hands, voice altering in tempo to fit character personalities; becoming hilariously high when he spoke for a woman.**

 **While her mother was the stars in the night, her father was the sun on a bright, clear day.**

 **She was their Little Wildfire, and they were her universe.**

 **Life was _great_. Innocent.**

 ** _Too_** **_great. Because one sunny afternoon, everything_ _changed_.**

 **"And it wasn't for the better."**

* * *

Akira stood rigidly in the living room with her Kaa-chan, Papa and Jemma. Occasionally she would shift on her feet, afraid to speak. For good reason, too. As if were, any time she breached the oncoming subject, her Kaa-chan and Papa always reacted in varying, mostly unpleasant, ways.

On many occasions, they would make her sit in time out for _hours_. At least they _felt_ like hours to her four-year-old mind. Jemma never seemed to mind. The older girl would just look to with brown, pitying eyes and shrug in a 'what can you do' manner.

Right now, Akira wanted to play Save the Princess. Which was a normal occurrence in their household. Save the Princess was the toddler's _favorite_ game, right next to when she and Kaa-chan would play dress up.

But dress up wasn't something Jemma enjoyed to do—not that she enjoyed doing much regardless. It didn't matter that Papa made _foam_ _swords_ for use as props in their fun (it was a big deal in the Uzumaki/ Namikaze household) Jemma just never seemed to be interested in doing anything other than glaring out of windows.

To put it simply, Save the Princess was Very Serious Business to her and her parents. Breaching the sore subject could go either way with her doting parents. It is what made her next question all the more serious. If they reacted poorly, there would be no fun _for the rest of the day_.

The thought made Akira take a deep, steadying breath. She focused on trying to gather all of her courage in order to give her thoughts a voice. Papa sat, balanced on one knee to make himself closer to her height. He sent her curious glances, waiting patiently for her to speak up.

She let out the breath, her words coming out in a rush. "Can Jemma-san play, too?"

There was a pause where the two adults just _stared_ at her, eyes searching her own and their immediate surroundings.

"Of course she can." Papa answered slowly with a soft smile on his handsome face. (Jemma always commented about how his face was enough to make ovaries explode—whatever _that_ meant. The older girl never told her, just blushed, mumbling about how she would tell Akira when she was _older_ -which was crazy! She was _plenty_ old enough.)

Akira made a show of jumping, fist pumping in the air with a whoop of excitement. Her whisker-marked cheeks dimpled with how wide her smile was. She knew Jemma got bored a lot. Maybe this time she would join in on the fun? " _Yes!_ Then Kaa-chan is the princess and _you_ are the evil king who stole her from our village. Me and Jemma-san are the warrior ninja sent to save the princess, _'ttebane!_ " Her little blonde head bobbed up and down sagely as she spoke, a chubby hand cupping her chin.

This was one of Akira's favorite parts of the game. Weaving stories for the adults to follow in a world crafted from her imagination? It was intoxicating.

Kaa-chan often make offhand comments of her taking after her Godfather. It was never spoken in a very excited way, so whether it was a _good_ or _bad_ thing to take after someone she didn't know was up in the air.

Apparently, her Godfather was a famous writer. She was unsure just how famous he could be considering she had only been allowed to read one of his works- _The_ _Gutsy_ _Ninja_. Heck, Akira wasn't even sure if said Godfather even _existed_. The only time he had supposedly been around was when she was a baby.

Regardless, Kaa-chan relented that with how easy Akira slapped together a story—at the age of four—she could help teach her Godfather a thing or two about story telling. Then she would go on about how Akira had better not end up like him when she grew older.

Her papa chuckled, always willing to do whatever she wanted. "Sounds perfect to me."

"Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I can't get outta this _myself_ , 'ttebane." Her Kaa-chan sat perched in her tower (a chair surrounded by pillows), shoulders slumped dejectedly, face scrunched in slight offence.

Akira's face morphed into childish horror, "Fair princesses should _never_ have to dirty their hands… _Or show her strength when behind enemy lines_." The child mock whispered the last part with a conspiring wink.

The redhead relented with a smile and a flippant wave of her hand, "Fine, fine."

Catching the foam sword Papa tossed her with ease, Akira poofed out her chest, faced the Evil King, and bellowed out a loud, "Draw your sword, your evilness and face me in battle!" Then as dramatically as possible, pointed her foam sword to him.

The evil raised his eyebrows and with the same dramatic flair, took out his own sword, its dull edges morphing into gleaming razor sharp tempered metal.

"Your fight is in vain, ninja warrior! For my evil plain is already underway!"

Akira glared at the imposing form of the king but she wasn't afraid. In fact, she felt very much the opposite. Her heart was steadily, its beats pumping a battle song through her bloodstream, calming her.

It was the same every time she went into battle; as if something deep inside of her _stirred_. Much like an ancient beast cracking its flaming eyes open to view the world the first time in an age.

The ribbon edges holding her hitai-ate fluttered in the wind, tickling her shoulders. Akira pointed a rude finger to the King, a sneer pulling up one side of her lip, displaying too-sharp canines. "Hold your evil tongue and spare me the boredom, old man!"

The king sputtered for a moment, face dumbfounded and quickly reddening. " _Old_ _man?!_ Why you—" his voice raised in mindless fury, " _I'll force the princess to marry me and take over your precious village_. _Nothing_ and _no one_ can stop me, not when I have—"

Little feet pattered across the floor as the King raged on—something horrifying about how he would make all of the citizens give him their candy in exchange for their lives. The ninja warrior dropped to her knees and slid expertly between his legs, chopping one off easily in her wake.

The beast in her veins _roared with delight_ as candy pink blood sprouted from where a leg use to be. The evil king fell to his one good knee, bellowing out in agony over his lost limb. Triumphant, Akira held her sword to the king's neck with a large, out of breath smile.

"But how!?" the king shrieked, pain morphing his features.

With an arrogant flip of her head—a movement that stirred her spiky mess of blonde hair—Akira stated one of the lessons Jemma had imparted on her; "Death doesn't stop for evil speeches." A snort of laughter bubbled up behind her. With those final words, she cut his head clean off his shoulders, spraying pink blood into the air, letting out a victory cry that mirrored that of the roaring beast.

The threat of the king was gone. The people who gathered around went wild, shouting Akira's name over and over in praise. They didn't have to fear for their candy anymore. The beast within her purred in satisfaction and closed his eyes.

Akira, slayer of King's looked to her companion and gestured to the tower in which the princess was kept in. "Go, release the princess, Jemma-san. The fight for our village is over. Tonight, we celebrate, 'ttebane!"

"How anticlimactic." Jemma replied, boredom lacing her words. It was then Akira noticed her companion hadn't given her aid at all in the battle for their village.

She blanched, _'Typical. She did all the work while Jemma-san sat down.'_

From the corner of her eye, she could see said brunette roll her own in exasperation.

With the princess freed—by some unknown person because Jemma _still_ refused to get up—she ran to her savior. Akira The Great was shortly lost in a sea of red as the princess draped herself over her shoulders and hugged her in a tight embrace. She smelt of jasmine, sandal wood and ink. "How could I ever repay you for saving my life, oh brave ninja?"

"Mah, none is needed. Your safety is payment enough."

"Ohh, you are just so _cute~_ how could I _possibly_ stay dead after that?" The decapitated king shot up and picked Akira up in his arms, spinning her around.

The magic was broken.

"Papa, you're supposed to be dead!" Akira squawked as her dad spun, planting kisses all over her chubby face. Quickly her grave face fell into joy, overtaken with giggles.

"Your adorableness brought me back to life~"

Jemma sighed from her seat on the floor. " _Wow_. The Yellow Flash of Konoha sure is fearsome. I'm shaken to my very core."

"Minato you're going to make her sick if you keep spinning her around like that." Kaa-chan reprimanded, a hand resting testily on her hip. The fond smile on her lips dulled the effect of anger that could make even the strongest man tremble in fear. "Besides, don't you have to meet with you team soon?"

Papa's cheeks were pleasantly flushed as he looked down to Kaa-chan. "I have plenty of time."

At the mention of her father's team, Akira perked up. _Now is the perfect time to ask_. Small chubby hands reached out and grabbed her dad's face. She leaned in and pressed her nose to his, "Papa can I come with you? _Please, please, pa-lease!_ "

Papa's browns drew together in thought, a crease appearing between them. " _Hmm_ … Maybe this once. Rin could use another female presence around. Those boys never seem to tire of fighting…"

As Kaa-chan walked past them, she placing a hand on Papa's shoulder. "I'm sure it's just a matter of time before they begin to get along. Try to be patient." She placed a kiss on his and Akira's cheek, "And _you,_ my Little Wildfire, try not to get in the way. Okay?"

Knowing the last part was directed to her (she was the only one her parents called Little Wildfire, after all), the four-year-old sent her Kaa-chan a blinding smile, "Yes ma'am!"

"Great! I'll have dinner ready when you two get home. Love you both."

"Love you more" Akira echoed back.

 **...**

 **Made me a believer with the touch of her skin**

 **...**

It was nearing high noon as Akira her papa walked through the bustling village. She sat perched on his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around his head, much like the hitai-ate he wore proudly. The metal of the forehead protector shone in the light, the symbol of Konoha winking at her in the sun.

Kira often wondered when she would be able to wear one of her own, a hitai-ate, that is. She wanted to become a strong shinobi like her parents.

To her, Konoha was _more_ than a village. They were her family. From the kind people in the flower market, to the stray animals that ran around looking for spare scraps she fed when they had leftovers. She was especially partial to the nice man that ran the ramen restaurant her Kaa-chan and Papa frequented.

Often times Akira heard the villagers whisper about some sort of "war." Even her parents talked about it, but that was when they thought she was sleeping. It confused her. From Jemma's description of the word, it was something that was ugly and scary. Yet, the leaf looked _beautiful_. How could they be in a war, when everything looked to be picture perfect?

Wasn't war supposed to look and feel appalling? In Akira's mind, she truly believed so long as she was behind the walls of Konoha, she was _safe_. Those people who didn't let their kids out to play by themselves were just plain silly (that included her own who rarely let her out in the public).

After a few minutes of silent walking, the father daughter duo made it to training ground seven. The area was surrounded by trees on all sides with clusters of pretty flowers dotting around the grass. In places the ground was barren all the way to the dirt. Some places were even scorched.

Akira's eyes drifted to the three wooden posts protruding from the ground on the left side of the familiar field. On the middle post sat a boy with wild gray hair, mask covering the bottom half of his face off. Hooded, dark gray eyes lifted to them disinterestedly

"Why is the brat here?" Hatake Kakashi question with no infliction in his flat voice.

Irritation spiked in Akira's small body, eye twitching. ' _What did he just call me!?'_ She mentally shot kunai at him, wishing they would actually hit.

They never had that great of a relationship, even if Akira had grown up babysat by the grumpy boy. Their personalities clashed, her being an adorable little ball of sunshine and him being a _steaming_ _turd_.

Taking words she had heard Jemma say, little Akira replied haughtily, replicating his bored tone. "That stick is still shoved ever far up your butt, _Bakashi_." She faked a yawn, patting her hand over her mouth to cover the smile that lifted the sides of her lips.

Kakashi sent back his own glare but stayed silent, looking bored and all-around unimpressed with her. It was a well-known fact that the little girl _loathed_ being ignored, so use to being the center of attention, it drove her crazy when she _wasn't_.

His lack of interest made her feel as if she were frothing at the mouth, wiping the smile clean off her face. They often got into verbal fights, always ending in someone having to pick her up to stop her from scratching the boy's eyes from his head.

Her papa's shoulders lifted and sank with a deep sigh.

Truthfully, _anything_ Kakashi did annoyed her to no end. Even when she was a baby, she would end up throwing up on the silver haired boy, much to the amusement of those around them. Then there was his stupid mask. He rarely was seen without it, except when he had dinner at their house—Kaa-chan said it was rude to wear at the dining table.

Jemma always commented about how he only wore his mask to give off a sense of mystery in order to attract women.

"Or men." Jemma spoke up, "With how much he enjoys sticks up his butt, he might as well be a flaming homosexual."

Akira snickered into her hand along with her friend for a brief second before her face drew together in confusion. She turned to the older girl, "Wait, what is a homosexual? And why is it on fire?" she asked her friend, head innocently tilting to the side.

The child glanced at the gray haired poopy-face as he fell off his perch after letting out a loud choking noise. He quickly stood, the exposed parts of his face red. "What did you just call me!?"

 _Huh. Hadn't she_ just _thought the same thing?_

"I didn't call you anything, _stupid face_. I asked what a flaming homosexual was." Her whiskered-face turned smug, violet eyes shining with an amusement. "But from your reaction I guess Jemma-san was right…" she mumbled, purposefully being loud enough for he could hear.

Jemma at this point was rolling around in the grass, howling in laughter. It made Akira feel warm inside that she was the reason for that. Jemma rarely laughed so openly. Sometimes after Akira had a strange dream, the older woman looked distant and distraught.

No one even so much as glanced in the brown-haired woman's direction.

"Quit blaming your words on some make-believe person." Kakashi growled back, tips of his ears taking on the color of his cheeks.

A forced chuckle echoed out of Papa. "Now now, children. No need to get so worked up…"

It was too late. At the fated words, Akira was pushing herself further up on her father's shoulders, one hand balancing herself on the top of his head while the other was a tiny, shaking a fist.

"Jemma-san is _not_ make-believe; ya gray haired creep, ' _ttebane!_ No one else can see her, is all..."

Said woman had sobered up by then. She sighed, running her hand through her wavy hair, "You're wasting your breath, kid."

She was right, of course. Just how she normally was. Any time Akira was caught speaking to Jemma, the people around her would send the child strange looks. Her parents tried convincing her that her friend was just a figment of her imagination—something Jemma had to explain to her. _'They don't think I'm real.'_

Akira strongly disagreed, which lead to many tantrums and trips to time-out. She became all but rabid when no one would listen to her, causing her temper to get out of her hands.

No one would believe the words of a four-year-old. But they _would_ believe a shinobi. She just needed that darn hitai-ate!

Her parents even took her to the Yamanaka Clan to try and 'find answers.' Which led to Kira being seen by some blonde haired man monthly to 'talk'. The man, Oishi, would ask her strange questions. A lot of the times more than once. Things like when first started seeing Jemma-san, or what Clan she comes from. "Ever since I can remember. She's from the Walker Clan from Ah-mar-i-cuh." she would say, causing the adults to become increasingly uncomfortable.

There was even this one time some Shaman came into their house and blessed it. Again, Jemma was Akira's source of information, informing her they thought her friend was a ghost they were trying to get rid of.

The fit she had that day got her two weeks of no playtime.

"Hey everyone—Oh! Hi, Akira-chan." Rin ran onto the training ground like an angel of peace. Instantly, the tension was broken.

Akira scaled down her father like a tree and landed in a crouch before bolting toward the teenage girl. "Rin, Rin! Bakashi is being a meany again!" she pouted, stopping to stand in front of her, hands clasped behind her back in a way she knew was adorable. She practiced a lot in the mirror, sometimes getting tips from Jemma-san.

Rin placed a hand on the smaller girl's blonde head fondly. "Now Akira-chan, I've told you not to call Kakashi-kun that. You could hurt his feelings."

The four-year-old gave her a look, completely perplexed. "But I _want_ to hurt his feelings."

"That's not nice…" Rin frowned, making the purple markings on her cheeks scrunch weirdly.

"Maybe _I'm_ not nice."

A snort came from Kakashi. "At least she knows it."

If possible, lightning zapped between the two as they glared at each other.

"Alright you three, that's enough." Minato sighed. He looked up to the sky. "Guess Obito is going to be late… Again."

"What's new there?"

Just as Kakashi spoke, Obito came running onto ground seven, yelling about how sorry he was. "I was on my way here when a kid ran into a fruit cart!"

"-and let me guess. You helped the cart guy pick up his fallen fruit." Yawned Kakashi.

"How nice of you." Rin smiled.

Akira blocked out the rest of whatever they were saying. Stars shone in her bright violet eyes, sparkling at the sight of the goggled pre-teen.

" _O-bi-to-nii-chan~_ " the small girl bolted toward her favorite person ever, repeating his name over and over. When she was close enough, she launched her smaller body to his.

Somehow, no matter how many times she did this, Obito never ceased to be caught off guard, and they went falling to the ground. Every time Akira would giggle like a maniac as he tried to fight the blush on his cheeks.

"H-hello Akira-chan. Nice to see you today."

Kakashi mumbled something about how Obito-nii was a disgrace to ninja kind.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that, Kira." Jemma hissed, " _Stay away from him!_ "

She was dutifully ignored.

"You're so _nice_ , Obito-nii-chan! Unlike a certain _somebody_." Her eyes cut to Kakashi, who was standing with his hands crossed over his chest. "He _never_ would have stopped to help someone."

Obito laughed, a hand rubbing the back of his head. His black eyes lit up for a moment as he pulled out a shiny red apple from his pocket. "Since I can't eat so soon before training, you can have this, Akira-chan."

If possible, she smiled even wider, taking the apple and hugging him again.

That was exactly the reason Akira could easily ignore Jemma-san's warnings. Sure, she was an adult and knew a bunch of stuff; things that haven't even _happened_ yet. However, she just _had_ to be wrong about Obito. He was kind and caring.

Anyone who would help old ladies could _never_ be evil.

In Obito, she saw someone worth replicating, someone to look up to. He was like a spark of light in the dark. A flame when the darkness became consuming. "Thank you!" She chirped, taking a large bite of the apple. It was juicy and delicious. A perfect snack for such warm weather.

"Okay Little Wildfire, how about you go play while we practice? Just be sure to stay close."

The little girl looked around for a patch of flowers. When she found some near the tree line, she smiled widely to him, "Sir yes sir!" She saluted. Then, without any preamble she ran off; Jemma close behind.

 **…**

 **Walls are built to keep us safe**

 **…**

Akira was on her fourth flower crown when something…strange happened. She had been thinking of the expression Kakashi would make when she forced him to wear one of the more brightly colored crowns, laughing deviously as she weaved. As told, she stayed on the training ground, in eyesight of her Papa.

The sun disappeared behind dark fluffy clouds, sending a wave of confusion through her. There hadn't been a single cloud in the sky when they had gotten here. When the birds went silent, along with the normal noises of the forest, she had a pit in the stomach knowing that something was amiss.

There were no squirrels in sight, strange considering she had shared her apple with a few brave bushy tailed cuties. The world around her seemed to tense up, as if it were holding its breath. Waiting for _something_.

Spooked by the sudden change, Akira stood, clutching her unfinished crown to her chest. She peered into the woods, searching for any anomaly, _anything_ that would explain the stillness. A deep rumbling came from the trees, causing her jump in fright. It wasn't like any animal noise she had ever heard in her village.

Yet, there was something _familiar_ about it. As if, maybe, she'd _heard_ it before. Possibly in a dream?

Then there were two white lights shining through the trees. From afar, they looked like eyes. They moved toward her incredibly fast. As they drew closer, she could see a silhouette of some sort of machine attached to the lights. Three other lights, these ones red, flashed red on and off, standing in place held by large poles. Another noise broke though the continuous roaring, a loud beeping sound.

 _Ah!_ That's right. In her dreams, those were things called _cars_. This must be what they looked like while on the side of a road. Still, the sight of them scared her for some reason. They just weren't _natural_ in her world.

She took a step back. "Papa…?" The words held little form, mostly coming out in a whimper.

Just as quickly as the car had appeared, it vanished. In its place were three faces.

"Akira, run!" Jemma shouted at her side. However, the little girl was frozen in place, unable to move.

Unlike the times when she played, her heart beat wildly in her chest, so frantically it almost _hurt_. Tears welled up into her eyes as she watched the middle stranger's lips stretch out inhumanly wide. Like a blade cut into the sides of his mouth into a long smile.

The hitai-ate on his forehead didn't look familiar. Instead of the leaf-like shape of Konoha, there were four squiggly lines. They reminded her faintly of rain.

When he spoke, it sounded as if his throat was full of glass. "Wanna play a _game?_ " the laugh that came from him sounded more like a wheeze. "It's called _dodge the light_."

Soreness spread behind her eyes.

"Minato! Oh god, _no._ " Jemma tried standing in front of her, she tried, she tried, _she tried,_ " _MINATO! Please, hear me!"_ her shrill scream barely even cut through the air when a loud booming echoed in the air.

Akira watched from behind Jemma's tall figure as the scary man raised a hand toward them. A blinding light shoot from his fingers.

It struck her.

 _"AKIRA!"_ The distant sound of her father's voice reached her ears, tinted with terror.

 _"You bastard!"_ That voice was Obito.

 _Why do they sound so far-_

Her body, which had felt pulled taunt like a rubber-band, released. With it, a blood curdling scream. With a body that felt alight, Akira's muscles constricting without her consent. She felt as if she were being _torn_ _apart_.

Then there was an alien cooling sensation. Violet eyes cracked open and she was met with wide, brown eyes. Not caramel, not Jemma. They were watery with unshed tears. "R-Rin?" Akira croaked.

"Akira-chan! Hang in there!"

She was so _confused._ Why was she laying on the ground? Where had that blinding pain gone? Her gaze dropped. Rin's hands hoovered over her body, glowing a pretty, green color.

"Get her out of here." Her fathers voice took on a calm seriousness he reserved only for the times she was _really_ bad. Yet there was a difference. This one was more calculating. Cold.

Akira was sure Rin would have done exactly that. Get them both away from danger. _Would have_. Instead, a strange water grabbed onto Akira's leg, _pulling_ her toward a giant sphere of water. She went to scream, but liquid filled her mouth.

Through foggy, water covered eyes Akira watched as her father and his team fought two of the men. She wanted to run to Obito and seek comfort, but she couldn't move. Her body was like magnets, the chakra-water metal.

Jemma's body was laying sprawled out amongst the chaos, face frozen in fear, eyes rolled back and white. There was a gaping hole in her stomach.

A dark chuckle came from somewhere near her prison, making the fine hairs of her neck stand up and goosebumps form across her skin. "Minato Namikaze's kid daughter… The perfect sacrifice."

 _I- I cant move!_

Her world went blurry as the sound of clashing metal rang in the air.

 **…**

 **Until they're crashing down**

 **…**

 _There was nothing but white. It surrounded her like a giant sheet._

 _"Hello?" Akira called out to her blank surroundings. At least she could talk._ Breathe _. "Is anyone there? Papa?"_

 _The young girl screamed in fright when the blankness shifted into the image of a room. Jemma popped up in front of her, sitting on a bed with a bright blue comforter. No, not Jemma. Not the one she was used to seeing._

 _This Jemma's smile reached her eyes and lit up her face, much like her Kaa-chan's. The smile itself was directed at a small rectangular device in her hands. Nimble thumbs tapped the hand-held screen at an incredible speed._

 _Why would she be smiling at a tiny screen like that?_

 _"Jemma Lee-Anne, get your ass down here and set the table!" A womanly voice called from afar. It sounded distorted and crackly, like the sound a television makes when the antenna are angled wrong._

 _"Coming!" The brunette yelled back, standing up and slipping the rectangular device in her back pocket. When she stood tall, Akira let out a gasp._

 _Jemma's tummy was huge, sticking out like a watermelon! The little girl watched in fascination as her brunette friend looked down at her swollen stomach, affection glowing from her face. She rubbed it, whispering in a voice only they could hear._

 _"Any day now, baby boy. Then I'll get to hold you… And be able to eat sushi again!" Her laugh, like tinkering bells, was the last thing Akira heard before she was pushed back from some unseen force._

 **…**

Violet eyes shot open. Her fathers face was close to her own. He was shaking her shoulders and calling out her name, fear making his voice quiver. When he saw that her eyes were actually _seeing_ him again, his shoulders dropped in relief. He pulled her to him in a crushing hug, repeating her name over and over, like a prayer.

She was wet, she noticed. And her body felt hot—scorching, in fact. Her breathing was short and crazed as she realized she was shaking. Akira dared not to speak. Fearful that the scream stuck in her lungs would be released. She swallowed it down; deep, deep down.

 _Jemma_.

Wild eyes scanned her surroundings for her friend. Her brain came to a screeching halt when a black-clad body came across her line of vision. It laid motionless on the grass. There was a strange smell in the air. It reminded her of coins.

Akira swallowed past the limp in her throat. If she didn't have that terrible stench in her nose, she could almost convince herself the man was sleeping. The red liquid that surrounded his body was enough for her to understand.

 _It's a dead body_.

A whimper broke free from her throat. Her eyes were as wide a saucer plates. The man's unseeing eyes watched her. _Mocked_ her. His smile was frozen on his face, even in death.

She felt sick.

Someone put themselves in her view of the body, but it was too late. The damage was done. Jemma was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, Akira didn't feel four anymore.

She felt _much_ older.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Kaa-chan's voice echoed throughout the hospital, even though she and her dad were standing outside of her door.

Akira laid silently in the hospital bed, listening to the beeping around her. She held onto Obito's hand, too afraid not to have something to hold onto. If she didn't move, maybe her Kaa-chan would stay calm? Maybe they could forget today ever happened and everything could go back to _normal_.

The rest of team Minato were in different places in the small room with her. Rin sat next to Obito on a tiny visitor couch while Kakashi stood off to the side with his arms crossed. She could feel their worried glances but ignored them.

To her, they didn't matter in that moment.

The only one who mattered to her was _Jemma_. Shortly after they got put into the hospital room, the elder girl came back into being. She sat with her back in pressed in the corner of the room, legs pressed to her chest and head down. It covered the gaping hole in her stomach.

Wavy brown hair covered her face in a curtain, making it impossible for her to see the woman's face. It was unnerving to see her like that. So much so, it made Akira's stomach turn.

She wanted to call out to her friend, to ask about the scene she had witnessed, to ask if she was _okay_ , but…Jemma looked as empty as Akira felt.

"This is so stupid." Kakashi said, breaking the tense silence. "It's not like it's _our_ fault she got in the way. If she had been closer like Minato-sensei _told_ her-"

"What the hell, Kakashi?" Obito cut in heatedly. "She was _struck by lightning_ —she couldn't have moved even if she _wanted_ to."

Ah, yes. That was right. She had been hit by chakra induced lightning. And then trapped in a—what had they called it? Oh yeah, a water prison. Aptly named. They said the scary man had put her under an illusion of some sorts before he showed himself. If only that had been the truth.

Akira was _positive_ what she saw was something from Jemma's world.

It wouldn't be the first time. At nights, her memories leaked through their connection. Only, this was the first time it was just Akira, by herself. It was also the first time she had seen Jemma _pregnant_.

Kakashi tched and looked away, mumbling. "If she had any training she would have known how to get out of the way."

Obito put Kira's hand down—making her clench her hands until her blunt nails dug into her soft palms—and stood. Anger made his shoulders tense. "She's _four,_ you bastard! Not everyone is a goddamn _prodigy_ like you. She's an innocent little girl; she shouldn't have had to go through _any_ _of_ _that._ Not while behind our walls."

Kira stood on shaky legs and walked carefully over to Jemma. The older kids were too enamored in each other, unaware of what she was doing. The IV's and tubes in her arms stretched as she went. She didn't speak in fear of being caught.

"Obito is right." Rin spoke up quietly, placing herself between the boys. "We are here for Sensei and his family, for _support_."

Something inside of Akira felt _weird_. She kept feeling things she shouldn't and hearing a small voice whispering in the back of her mind. Was this how Jemma felt with her? If it was, she felt bad because it was _awful_.

From the corner of her eye, Akira saw Kakashi slash through the air with his hand. "It's not _my_ _family_. So why should it be _my_ problem?"

Something built up inside of the four year old. It made a strange coldness coil around her stomach and made her head feel light. Jemma's image flickered. The whispers became shouting.

 ** _"Because your family is dead. Your dad is gone; left you in an attempt to make up for his wrong doings. If you don't want to be here-_**

At the same time, both Jemma and Akira's head turned to stare at Kakashi, eyes dark. " ** _-then leave._** " They spoke in unison. Shocked, the little blonde-haired child's head snapped back to where Jemma sat. She was still glaring at the teenage boy as her body slowly vanished.

Kira whimpered as her head began hurting. The worst head cramp she had ever experienced sliced through her brain and cut behind her eyes. Her stomach was _boiling her stomach, she was going to boil alive!_

The steady beeping in the room became fast, _too fast_. Her heart was going to beat out of her _chest_. She held her head in agony and _screamed_.

Everything became a blur after that. She heard worried voices, her parents' joining in. Sometimes she saw their terrified faces but soon, just like Jemma, it faded away.

As everything faded to black, the beeping came to a halt. Then— _nothing_.

 ** _Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-_**

* * *

 **Worlds apart we were the same  
Until you hit the ground**

* * *

 ** _"Who...am I?"_**

The question floated in the air, loaded and dangerous like a game of Russian roulette. The chamber spun, and then locked in place.

 **"Jemma."**

 **"Akira."**

Were the two simultaneous answers.

A loud **_bang!_**

No.

 _Not_ Jemma.

That's who she _was_. Who she is _now_ is _Akira_.

The two very different looking girls stood in front of each other. On one side was a short toddler with innocent violet eyes. Bright blonde hair framed her young features; three whisker markings graced each of her cheeks. Across from her, a nineteen year old. Her hair was let down, falling in long, chestnut brown waves. Her eyes were a haunted, sad caramel.

Floating between them was a glowing, dark red orb of light. It looked like the ball was made of fire, red flames flickering back and forth in a breeze neither girl felt. From it came a feeling of _warmth_. Not the warmth one would feel from something hot, but the warmth of something _familiar_.

"Is that… me?" Both girls spoke at the same time, watching in wonder as the orb responded with large, licking flames that stretched toward heavens. The girls slowly looked from the orb to each other, understanding dawning on them.

They were one in the same, just different parts.

"Reincarnation." Jemma spoke, a hint of hysteria and disbelief in her voice. "You are my _reincarnation_. Holy sheep shit…" the last part was whispered to herself.

"So we are… _that?_ " Akira pointed to the orb of dark red fire.

The older of the two nodded, a hand coming to her chin in deep thought. "It must be our soul or somethin'." She had been trapped in the anime-word of Naruto for four years— _anything_ made sense at this point.

"…But that means…you _died_."

A look of pure agony crossed the older woman's face. She clutched her chest and shook her head. "There was so much I still needed to do." Tears streamed down her face like rivers. Her hand slid from her chest to her stomach. " _Someone I needed to_ be there _for…_ "

Akira felt her sadness as if it were her own—or was it her own? This was too confusing for a four-year-old, even if she was considerably smart for her age.

As someone so young, she had yet to feel something as heart-twisting as loss. If the feeling in her chest and the tears falling from her own eyes was anything to go by…Jemma had lost someone extremely dear to her.

Afraid and overwhelmed, the little girl crouched down so that she was closer to the ground, hands clutching her head. "I-I want my Kaa-chan and Papa." She cried. She wasn't use to such _sad,_ _awful_ feelings. She didn't want to feel it! "I don't want to be here anymore!"

Jemma's face paled. "Oh no…" she watched the child she had watched grow up with wide eyes, stricken by a realization and the horror that followed along soon after. "My reincarnation _lives_ _in_ _the_ _Naruto_ _Universe_ … What kind of fucked up, fanfic-crazed, nightmare _is_ _this!?_ "

Sniffles came from the blonde, "You're not making any sense!" she whined, fat tears trailing down her whisker marked cheeks.

"None of this does, but you need to _calm down._ "

Jemma guessed it was alright, though. _She_ wasn't in any real danger. Akira was. (She ignored how that thought made her feel more afraid than _her_ being in danger). To the world, Jemma was nothing more than the creation of a child with a vivid imagination.

Nothing could physically touch her, just as _she_ couldn't touch anything. _She_ was safe. _But_ …

Jemma had watched that little girl grow. Was there for her first steps, _her first words_. She _loved_ this child—her reincarnation, her brain reminded her—as if she were her own. Would she be able to stand by and watch her _suffer?_

To go through losing her parents all alone?

"I don't want to be here, Jemma-san." Akira moaned into her knees.

Looking into the flame, Jemma began to think. _Think, think, think._ Wouldn't it make more sense if she was _in_ the fireball—er, _soul_? Insane as all of this was, Jemma almost positive she wasn't supposed to be with her _fucking_ _reincarnation_.

Not that she was an academic in reincarnation, but, She had already lived and died. As terrible as that truth was, she was only _part_ of the soul. Maybe even just a fragment. She had _no_ _place_ in this world.

Then there was the fact that Akira _didn't_ _even_ _exist_ in the show she use to watch. Naruto never had an _older sister_. He was alone in the world. Rejected by the village he loved. That was what made his childhood so achingly _sad_.

 _Just like my son…_

 _No_. She couldn't think like that. Her son has his grandma; he wasn't _ever_ going to be alone.

 _Maybe if I… I don't know, touch it? Akira will go back and I'll be absorbed? Maybe I'll at peace or some shit?_

… Suuuure. She would go with that. Not like she hadn't gone through the past four fucking years unable to touch anything or talk to anyone. No one but the child in front of her. The child who she _felt_ _die_ after trying to check up on _her_ …

The brunette moved her hand closer to the orb with sluggish movements. Would it hurt? Would she lose her memories? Forget herself? She was definitely about to find out.

The movement must have startled the little girl because her head shot up, as if _knowing_ what she was about to do. Jemma noticed as she reached closer that hers and Akira's body began to fade. Was that a good thing?

"What are you doing?"

"Well," the brunette paused to look at… Herself? _My head hurts_. "I'm thinking if I touch our soul-thingy, it will send you back."

That seemed to perk her up. "I can go back?" the hope in those few words…

"Uh, yeah. You can go back to that terrible world and I'll go to heaven or whatever." It wasn't a good time to think of just how unreligious she was, at that moment.

"I just want to see my papa again." Well, at least the tears had stopped.

"You'll get to see him, I promise. Have fun with trying not to die, I guess." Even as she spoke, her heart ached at how true her words were.

"You say such _weird_ things." Akira said, wiping the snot dripping from her nose. She seemed almost _happy_ again (oh the bipolar beauty of youth). Then the child jumped up with a loud _WAIT_.

" _What_? I've got clouds to dance on or eternal fire to burn in."

"What is a homosexual? Flaming or not." Akira's face was set seriously.

She hadn't been expecting that. " _Eh?_ It's when a guy loves a guy. Like how your parents love each other. Same with girls liking girls."

Akira's mouth made an 'o' of understanding.

Okay. _This was it._ _No turning back_. Trying not to let her nerves get the better of her (or give the child enough time to interrupt again), Jemma reached out again to touch the orb. She could do this. Not for herself—but she could do this for her. For the child she loved. For the future as a strong shinobi she will have.

" _Wait!_ " Akira wailed out, again.

Before the older of the two could answer, the small blonde tackled Jemma's shaking legs. " _I'm gonna miss you._ "

Jemma didn't have enough time to smile or feel good. The sudden attack on her legs made her flail, arms windmilling around in a desperate attempt to gain stability. Instead of righting herself, though— _because that would be too easy_ —she fell into their soul.

Red flames blasted out and Jemma watched in horror as Akira's small body disappeared, a smile on her chubby face. Then she began to fade, too.

* * *

 **So fly on your own  
It's time I let you go  
Go**

* * *

"Okay. What the _fuck_. _I'M STILL HERE!_ " No sooner than the words left my lips, the orb burned bright until my body was engulfed in an ocean of red. The most tranquil feeling I had ever felt in both my lives rushed over me like cool running water.

 _Yep_.

This was _much_ better than being forced to live in the Naruto world. I'd miss that little shit, though. She was the only good thing to happen in my entire Naruto-verse experience.

I floated there, heaven knows how long, when something _tugged_ at me. "No thanks." I stated, swatting away the feeling of tiny fingers. It was fucking _creepy_ but I was too Zen to give a fuck.

They grabbed onto me again, pulling harder this time. Insistent on me following them. Sigh.

With a roll of my eyes, I followed, grumbling. This wasn't my idea of being at peace. Normally, that meant nothing would bother me!

As I walked, the red surrounding me slowly began to darken. When an inky black could be seen in the distance, I fought to turn the other way; to go back to my peaceful red oblivion. The hands held on tight.

I looked around me desperately, trying to find something to grab onto and for a brief second I thought I saw a man with pale brown hair and horns ( _? The fuck_ ) _smiling_ at me.

 _… Wat._

His lips moved, as if speaking to me, but I heard nothing.

Darkness became my friend.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **I'm in love with an angel who's afraid of the light**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

My eyes opened. There was no red. No strange horned man ( _sage something?_ ) Instead, there was a bunch of faces staring down at me.

 _Super_ creepy. After _years_ of only one person being able to see me, so many eyes looking _(into the windows of my soul)_ was _terrifying_.

"Akira! You're okay!"

Warm arms wrapped around me. I cringed at the strangeness of being _held,_ a gasp left my mouth at the feeling. Then, I let out a loud groan, breaking out into sobs.

This _couldn't_ be happening.

It had to be some big _joke_. The world making my un-life into some sort of fuckin' _prank_ _show_.

No one came out yelling "You've been pranked, bro!" sadly.

I stretched out my arm—a considerably _smaller_ arm with childish hands—and whispered underneath my breath, voice broken.

"… _Son of a_ bitch _._ "

* * *

 **Song: Angel by Theory of a Dead Man**


	2. Chapter 2: I Am Akira

**Edited: 08/17/2018**

* * *

 **I'm here again  
A thousand miles away from you  
A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am**

* * *

 **Life… What could possibly be the meaning of life, let alone a _second_ life? I sure as hell didn't know. I came to this world by what I thought was an _accident_. A terrible, unfortunate, hellish accident. It was years later I realized the truth:**

 ** _There are no accidents._**

* * *

The moment I arrived was a chaotic daze of confusion. Instead of bone white walls and sterile stench of a hospital, I found myself in a completely different room. There was a giant pink frog plushy sitting by a small, ivory crib.

My surroundings smelt strongly of sandalwood and cinnamon.

I walked further into the room, a lump in my throat that refused go away no matter how many times I tried swallowing past it. My feet lead me to the edge of the crib. Inside was a newborn baby. It was sleeping soundly, suckling on it's wrinkly thumb.

My insides melted at the sight, tears welling in my eyes. I brought my hand to my mouth, the other clutching at my chest.

Short, wild blonde hair grew out in tufts around a rounded head. Strangely, there were markings on its chubby cheeks. My heart had simultaneously broke and thawed at the same time, leaving a mush of red pulp. Babies were one of my many weaknesses. Their tiny fingers, curious eyes and squishy warmth just made me _crumble_.

Initially, my first thought had been, ' _god damn weebs'_.—Who put fake fucking markings on their newborn child? _Seriously_. Didn't they have _better_ things to do? Like sleep? Newborn babies raged against letting their parents sleep, right?

Sure, the baby had strangely vibrant blonde hair and… A woman with shockingly red hair walked in, a blond man following close behind…

That was when things _really_ got weird.

"You shouldn't be up walking, Kushina." The ( _goddamnbeautiful_ ) blond man put a tentative hand at the woman's back, brows pinched together in worry.

Furious violet eyes shot up to the man, making his mouth close with a snap of teeth. When both turned to me in tandem, I held my hands up, eyes wide. Hopefully they wouldn't notice the tear tracks down my cheeks?

"Please don't kill me! I-I promise— _I don't know why I'm here!_ " the words rushed out, pleading and high.

These weebs were _damn_ _good,_ I had to admit. Their costumes were _great_. Flawless, even. 'Kushina's' wig was vibrant and so long it probably too hours to untangle. Even the contacts she wore had to be made of high-grade materials. It was as if she _actually_ had violet eyes!

And 'Minato'—My face warmed. His cosplayer was god damn _hot_. Eyes of sky blue were surrounded by a shock of long, blonde lashes that would make beauty guru's jealous. His wig, too, looked natural—which was weird because _all_ anime cosplay wigs had that _forced_ look of fabricated spikes. All of them.

"I feel fine, Minato. I just _need_ _to see her_."

I blinked. Once. Twice… _Why are they ignoring me?_

As if in answer, _Kushina_ _walked_ **_right_ _through_ _me_**.

The air was forcefully sucked from my lungs. For a moment, I felt as if I were hollow. Nothing but a shell with a mortal face. _Nothumannothuman **nothuman**. _

When I was able to breathe again, I coughed, overcome with the feeling of choking. As if someone hand their hands wrapped tightly around my throat. My brain scrambled, trying to rationalize what had occurred with hard logic. It came up empty. There was no thinking this away.

This lead to my second thought: _"how fucking ironic."_

But, that's the world for you, right? Ironic and shitty. Like a goddamn sewer. Or a shit plant.

It wasn't that I was in a different place (Naruto, it seemed) or even the fact I felt a void in my chest (aftereffects of someone _literally_ walking through me?). See, I was painfully aware was dead. Aware of _how_ I died. And seeing a newly born baby was by far the single most fucked up thing I could have possibly lay my eyes upon.

Why, you ask?

 _Because I had died giving birth_.

My first child. A son. A beautiful baby boy who would grow up _never_ knowing who either of his parents were. Sure, he would know _of_ me _._ Listen to funny stories told by my mom. About how I had almost burned down the house, the first time I tried baking cookies at age twelve.

Mom would show him pictures of me, giggling together over the funny faces I made every time someone pointed a camera my way. He would grow up knowing his mother _loved_ him, and that he was _wanted_ by her, but was _never_ _there_. _Would my baby know he was loved?_

He'd never know his father, either, which _could_ be seen as a good thing.

I conceived him with a married man. Once the guy found out about the life in my belly, he had moved as far away as possible. Packed up his wife and _abandoned_ us. Leaving a broken-hearted 18 year-old girl with the biggest responsibility imaginable.

I _hated_ that man with _every_ _fiber_ _of_ _my_ _being_. Not because he left me, but because he left _our_ _son_. An innocent, unborn baby.

At the time, I wished him an excruciating death. Maybe something fitting like being crushed by a giant dick statue. Yet, no matter how much I loathed his father, I could never bring myself to hate the life growing in my swelling stomach. I _loved_ that tiny peanut.

For him, I was willing to lasso the universe and name it his. Every fluttering beat of his heart on the monitor, the more I fell in love. Ever kick to my stomach ( _and_ _spine—_ ow) was like a dropkick straight to my heart.

Many, if not all, of my friends questioned why I didn't just get an abortion. To them, it was an easy concept: the father ran away, so why would I want to raise a child without his father? Just go to the clinic and _poof!_ Everything is magically fixed.

Now don't get me wrong; I was widely known as a complete supporter of pro-choice. A woman's body was hers to decide what to do with. However, when it came to _my_ body, which was growing _my_ baby? _I could never do that._ I could barely even _think_ about it.

Not to him, and not to myself. It was selfish, I was selfish—but I never pretended to be anything but.

In turn, my 'friends' rejected me. They thought I was nothing more than a money-hungry _slut_ for wanting to keep a married man's child. For trying to tie _him_ down, and attach to him like a parasite for the next 18 plus years.

It didn't matter if I had been raised in diapers with them. Years of friendship and getting to know a person and talking about everything and anything—all of it meant _nothing_ after I became pregnant.

It was easy to judge someone else for his or her situation. _So damn easy_. But, they could never have understood and I was much too proud to explain. If they didn't want to be there for me _and_ my baby, they didn't deserve the shit on the bottom of my boot.

So I let them leave, middle finger raised high.

Thankfully, my mom, who raised me as a single mother, understood and supported my decision to keep the baby. She didn't like that I had an affair with some unknown married man, but was ecstatic to be a grandmother nonetheless.

She was with me—standing as my rock; a boundless support system and never ending stream of love—all the way up to the moment I left that world. My soul stretching across universes, space and common sense, bringing me to _this_ _hell_.

A hell made _perfectly_ for me.

One that forced me to watch a child as she was raised by two loving parents, and grew in a household built on support and acceptance, when I couldn't be there for my own. I never even had the chance to name him.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**  
 **…SEVEN MONTHS LATER…**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"That's it, Akira! Walk toward Papa!"

I watched in apt attention as a chunky baby girl wobbled on unsteady feet toward her father. I bit at my nails, egging her on silently. Her bright violet eyes shone with determination, her face set in intense concentration.

Behind her stood Kushina, whooping and shouting with sparkling similar eyes and proud wide a smile. Her cheering was obnoxiously loud. She looked close to tears in her excitement.

"If you keep screaming so loud she'll get distracted." I snapped at the woman in irritation. I'm sure if she was able to hear me, Kushina would have smashed my face into the floor. Good thing she couldn't. Being hit sounded extensively unpleasant.

Minato was practically swooning at the look his baby girl was making. He smiled so wide, it could have eclipsed the sun and brought down stars. Pride radiated off him like radioactive sludge. Seven months old and already walking? It was quite the feat… I think?

I was, unmistakably, jealous of the two. While I was forced to be nothing more than a bystander— a specter to their perfect life—they were able to hold, hug and kiss the little bundle of joy that was Akira. I had no right to feel that way, but after a _months_ of being stuck in this damn house with _nothing_ to do; I thought it only fair to be a bit envious.

From what I could tell, Akira could hear and see me. Many times, she would point at me and babble in nonsensical baby gibberish, looking from her parents to me. When she would crawl after me, I moved out of the way, not wanting to feel the emptiness that came with human touch.

Curious violet eyes wandered over to where ever I sat. I had the feeling she was silently asking why I was there.

I had no answer.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**  
 **…TWO YEARS LATER…**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

I wasn't bound to the house as I originally thought, not that I had ever _tried_ leaving the house. Too many people. For some reason, I was bound to the _child_ _herself_. Which I guessed was a good thing. No more having to stare at the same walls, going out of my mind with boredom.

Leaving the house for the first time, though, I almost had a full on panic attack—okay I totally did. It was terrible and painful.

It stood as nothing more than a reminder, a way to drive home how I was no longer in my world. That thought _terrified_ me. Being stuck in an alien world, tied to a child that wasn't meant exist was nerve wracking. It tore at my sanity. No human contact, no conversation, nothing to occupy my time. It all threatened to tear me apart into billions of lost parts.

It hurt, every time. Even after years of experiencing it, it never lessened the effect. As if someone was slowly carving into me like some sort of pumpkin; pulling out my gooey pieces. After the first time we ran through a large crowed, I had almost passed out.

Which, for a ghost feels strange. As such, I was unable to touch _anything_. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat. So almost passing out? Super weird.

My feet never _truly_ touched the ground. The only time I could truly _feel_ was when a living being went through me, and even then, it was _pain_. Shockingly enough I was able to walk through walls—something I welcomed with open arms when I found out it was possible. Sneaking behind people to enter or exit rooms tested my patience like a motherfucker.

Going outside had its downsides that I couldn't ignore, sure. The more crowded the area, the more people ran through me. But I couldn't allow the situation to break me. It wasn't in my nature to seep in my own frivolous melancholy.

In life, I was resilient: nothing could keep me down long. If something pressed down on me, I would adapt and concur. Persevere and come out stronger than before.

So, instead of crumbling under the pressure that came with the living going through me, I fought it. I fought tooth and nail against the crippling loneliness and emptiness that came with it. It pressed down on me like a toxic cloud, threatening to sap me of any positive emotions I held on to.

After a few (sixty-six) more times of going outside, it became more of a calming experience. I'd been pulled along with the small family through a beautiful village where endless trees towered over us like skyscrapers, lucid green casting a beautiful silhouette against the blue skies.

Seriously—the trees were fucking enormous.

Birds flew around, some with little paper notes attached to their twig-thin legs. The squirrels here ran in packs, causing mayhem amongst the civilians everywhere they went. They had to be my favorite wild animal in this place. Mostly because they never failed to make Akira laugh.

Unlike the world I came from, people talked loudly here. They bargained for goods and laughed lively with friends. It was surreal in a way I could not even _begin_ to explain.

Then there were the ninja. All were quiet as a mouse, much like Kushina and Minato. Their steps were silent and purposeful. The first time I saw someone walking up the side of a building, I just stared, jaw slack and eyes popping out of their sockets.

It was impossible, yet happening _everywhere_. The ninja were also as fast as a car and could jump from tree to tree as if they were puppets connected to string.

At three years old, Akira was already talking in complete sentences. It freaked me out at first, but became something I quickly came to accept.

She was born into a world where children were crafted into pocket-sized killing machines, of _course_ they could talk almost perfectly at three. If a person could look like a shark, _anything_ was possible.

Thus, whenever strange things occurred, that was my go-to rational excuse: _"We're in a television series. Of_ course _that's possible."_

Akira, ever the sweetheart, tried helping me out as much as she could after she realized just how bored I was (she was extremely intuitive for a three-year-old), she always did her best to entertain me. Which wasn't hard. The girl was a hilarious, charming little shit.

When she played, she incorporated me in it, telling her parents I was to be her faithful sidekick. It was fun, watching her run around, beating the shit out of Minato and Kushina with a foam sword. Her reflexes were spectacular, very ninja-like even at such a young age. She was everything her name said her to be: bright, intelligent and clear.

And it _terrified_ me. I _knew_ what they did with prodigies in this world, and it never ended happily.

Those children were pushed to go through the academy faster. Sent to the front lines at younger ages as cannon fodder. It was even more real considering they were at war right now. And, worst of all, was those children truly _wanted to._ Most trained their entire lives, from the time they are able to walk, to be able to get that chance.

It was sickening.

Akira was so pure. _Full_ _of_ _life and innocence_. To think, one day this world would take away that light, snuff it out with the blood of the village's enemies—it had me brimming with barely-contained contempt.

For as long as I could, I wanted to protect the innocence inside of my violet-eyed anomaly in the Naruto world.

To instead broaden her mind and have her think for _herself_. So, I told her stories. Not all were happy and filled with hero's who obtained glory as this world enjoyed making. Some were dark where the hero dies, and full of meaning I could only hope she would recognize, as she grew older.

If she had a question, I answered it to the best of my ability no matter what it was. I even taught her how to cope with small things, such as the death of a stuffed animal, in order to prepare her.

In short, I taught her how to be everything I was not.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Who is Jemma-san?" Minato asked after weeks of Kira going on and on about me.

I froze.

The look of confusion that crossed the little girls face was adorable. Her whisker markings scrunched up and her eyebrows came together. She pointed toward me, looking at her father as if she were explaining something simple like, say, the color of the sky.

"She's right there, Papa. Jemma-san has _always_ been here." She paused, expression turning sad. "Don't you see her?"

Minato's shoulders tensed and he slowly looked in the direction Kira's chubby finger pointed. For a brief moment, I thought he could see me. He looked _directly_ into my eyes. For that passing moment, I felt _hope_. Hope that _maybe_ I would finally be able to be _in_ the world and not just an apparition doomed to watch, never to feel.

"…There's nothing there, sweetie. Is she one of your imaginary friends?"

Every piece of hope inside of my chest broke. The cracks spread like spider webs through my body until they reached my heart. It splintered and crumbled to dust. An afterthought of anger pulsed through me as Akira began screaming and crying, trying to get her father to understand, but I knew her words would only make things worse.

I sat down, waiting for her to calm down and stared out of a nearby window, trying not to succumb to the feelings roaring inside of my mind.

"No! Jemma is _real!_ She tells me stories about these things called _cars_ that take people places like horses do, but they aren't alive! They're made of metal and use gasses to run them."

The Yellow Flash's eyes narrowed. "I guess…"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

That night, I sat in the dining room with Kushina and Minato as Kira slept. True to my speculation, the parents were worried. Afraid of the unseen being in their home.

"It's just a phase. She'll grow out of it." The red headed woman said, trying to console her husband.

God, they were such a beautiful couple. The creators of this universe must hate us cripplingly average people to allow two lovely specimens like _them_ to be together. I'd cut off and sell my left foot to bang either of them— _and I'm not even attracted to women._

Their daughter would be a heart breaker one day. I knew it the way I knew what Akira was thinking and feeling.

"I'm telling you, Kushina; she thinks this Jemma person is _real_. The things it tells her are just too specific. Yesterday she told me Jemma said my team consisted of 'an evil idiot and a purple tattooed dead weight.' It even knew I helped train Kakashi when he was younger."

Kushina raised an eyebrow. "It had nothing to say about Obito?"

He sighed, running his hands down his face. He really looked exhausted. "From what I gather, that comment was _about_ him."

"Obito? Uchiha Obito? _Evil?_ " she laughed, clutching her stomach. "What's that klutz going to do? Gather an army of old ladies he's helped over the years in order to take over the world?"

I let out a snort and crossed my arms. "Nope. Just a bunch of S-class criminals and an incredibly hot Uchiha." Just let them wait. He was the reason for their death, alongside many others. I looked out the kitchen window and watched as thick, dark clouds rolled across the inky sky.

Distant shapes of birds flew, riding the air currents. Free to do whatever they like. Not chained to anything but their own will. I raised my hand to them, heart crying out to join them. To share in that freedom and go wherever I pleased.

My hand clenched together until my knuckles turned white. In my hand, I crushed those fleeting dreams. Ground them so fine they turned to dust and were carried on the same current, drifting into nothing more than a whisper of broken hope.

It began to rain. Droplets of water speckling on the window.

A loud sigh came from Minato's side of the table. "I'm being serious. It told Akira how Sakumo-san died and tried rationalizing it to her." The laughter stopped, cut short by the severity of the topic.

 _Oops_.

"We'll take her to the Yamanaka for an evaluation. Maybe they can see if something is wrong."

"Inoichi _does_ owe me a favor." Minato mumbled, hand resting against his chin in thought, "I'll talk to him in the morning and see if there is someone she can see."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Something that never seemed to change—no matter what world I was in—was the look of a psychiatrist's office. A color scheme consisting of dulled-out colors and very few pieces of furniture, no doubt to make sure the patients didn't feel overstimulated with their surroundings.

Any psychiatric place used the same overused tactics. In wards, one wall in the room was painted in a pastel shade. Greens, blue and yellows; never reds. Reds, while also jarring to the brain, would just set off the patients. Make them want to hurt themselves or trigger terrible memories.

The man across from Akira and me, Oishi Yamanaka, crossed his legs. His clothes were shinobi standard, which confused me to no end. Not because he was a shinobi; he was part of a clan—but because there was a therapist for _kids_.

Here I had thought they left their scarred children to deal with shit themselves. Guess Kakashi never wanted to talk to a professional. I mean, who knew they had therapists? As barbaric as this place was, I thought maybe they would just put them down. Like a horse with a broken leg.

Oishi wore thick-framed glasses close to the edge of his nose, looking down at a file in his battle-worn hands. It reminded me of my gran before she died of cancer when I was ten. We weren't close.

"Do you know why you're here?" Oishi's voice held a certain tone to it that sounded falsely warm to my ears. To a child, he may sound sincere but as an adult—one use to places like this—I could see through it. It ruffled my feathers.

Akira shifted uncomfortably on the couch beside me, shooting me sideways glances. "Because I was bad?"

"Were you?"

"I don't think so…" another glance.

"Are you uncomfortable, Akira-chan?"

"No." was her immediate high-pitched answer. It was obviously a lie.

The Yamanaka wrote something down on his notepad. His large teal eyes trained intently on Kira, evaluating and assessing, then turned back to the pad to scribble. "Why do you keep looking to your right?"

The child tilt her head, eyes no doubt steadying on his. A light tingle of _challenge_ flickered across our bond. Was this pride I felt? "I was looking at Jemma-san."

He hummed aloud, raising a brow. "And what is ' _Jemma_ - _san'_ doing?"

She looked at me again for a moment, this time fully. "Glaring at you." Violet eyes turned back to the man. Her testy behavior made me chuckle. Until the man began writing _again_.

I growled, "Couldn't he at least _try_ not to make it look like he's writing down everything you say?" It was easy to be miffed at the bleach-blond man. Was it so hard to remember everything said in a session? If he could control other people with his mind, he could _easily_ write things down _after,_ so Kira could be more comfortable talking to him.

"Interesting. Does this 'Jemma-san' have an issue with me?"

The little ball of sunshine giggled. "She's mad you're writing everything I say."

I winced at the insinuation as Oishi sat up fully in his seat, alert blue eyes narrowing to look my way but not _at_ me. "Is it because…she doesn't want documentation of our time together?"

She shook her head in the negative, "I don't think so. More like she wants you to pay more attention to me instead of writing."

Pursing his lips, the Yamanaka put his notebook onto the table next to his seat. "Is she happy now?"

Blooming of laughter fell from her lips, instantly making me feel light as air. I looked to her, watching the mirth dancing in her eyes. "I don't think Jemma-san is _ever_ happy."

 _Well… You aren't wrong, kid._

"and why is that?"

Akira's laughter stopped abruptly. Her cute little nose scrunched up, a foul look crossing her expression. "You ask _a lot_ of questions. Have you tried yoga? Jemma-san told me it makes a person more flexible." The way she spoke sounded matter-o-fact in a way only a child could possess.

I rolled my eyes, noting that the look she had sent him probably mirrored a face I would pull. A smile tugged at my lips. Just seeing reflections of myself in her made me feel that maybe, just maybe, I existed. That I was real and could, in some twisted way, help this child.

The man must have felt the same because his on lips twitched. When he spoke, it was more warm. "And why would I need to be more flexible?"

Akira let out a loud sigh, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch. "How else would you get that stick out of your ass?" her hands flicked out at the wrist, violet eyes rolling in boredom.

I laughed. Akira shot me a look with a sly smirk on her face.

Oishi looked _pissed_.

I laughed harder.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

I stayed behind after Oishi sent Akira out of the room with a scowl and called for her parents. Instead of sitting on the couch, which currently held the couple, I stood by the window, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. A squirrel ran across the green grass, digging into the soil.

Squirrels were _everywhere_ in this village. Sometimes they are even in the goddamn shops. I guessed it was fitting. When I saw the shinobi jumping from tree to tree in the distance, they looked a lot like the fluffy tailed rodent. They even traveled in packs the same way, groups of three or four.

Kushina was the first to break the silence, voice tinged in worry. "So? What's your prognosis?"

Oishi sighed long. From my spot by the window, I could see him take off his glasses and rub his fingers at the bridge of his nose. "Everything seems perfectly fine. Akira-chan is in great health both physically and mentally. In fact, she is rather… _intelligent_ for her age."

"We already knew she was smart, y'know! What about 'Jemma-san'? Is it her imagination or what!?" by the end of her rant Kushina was standing up, fist waving threateningly at the psychologist. Her hair waved in tendrils around her head in a crown of flames. I blanched. Damn that woman was scary.

Minato smiled stiffly, calmly pulling the raging redhead back down in the seat beside him. "What my wife is trying to ask," he said, patting Kushina's hand. She huffed, looking off moodily to the side. "Is if there is anything we need to worry about?"

Oishi looked disturbed by the redheads behavior. Afraid, even. Was it possible he went to the academy with her? He didn't _look_ young enough. Maybe he was aware of her status as a jinchūriki… Eh, who knows. There was a reason that woman was a feared kunoichi.

"Since she is so young, as you know, I was unable to look into her mind. It would be too dangerous for someone with an undeveloped chakra system. As for 'Jemma-san'…" The light blonde man gave the two a very serious look, bringing his hands together in front of his mouth. He took a deep breath before he spoke, "…Have you tried talking to a priest?"

Hearing enough, I walked out of the room, through the closed door. On my way out, I heard Minato let out a, long tired sigh.

 _Me too, Minato. Me too._

If the mind reader clan of the village couldn't figure out what the fuck was going on, there was very few I believed would. Maybe that old tree bastard would know? Madara was smart, he _had_ to know at least a little about what was going on, right? _Eh_ , too bad he was bat-shit crazy. Hot in his prime, but crazy nonetheless.

"Why does no one believe that you're real?" Kira questioned, voice as small as she was as I entered, catching my attention. I walked further into the waiting room, ignoring the looks the receptionist sent her way. It would do nothing to glare at them. I would know.

I crouched down in front of her, thinking of what to say. A way to make her understand. "Because… They are adults. If they can't see, touch or sense it, they disregard it."

"Oh… What does 'dis-re-gard' mean?"

A smile spread across my lips. The Yamanaka man _had_ commented on her intelligence. Part of me felt as if I were at fault for her understanding of complex thoughts and ideas (as complex as a three year old could get).

The child had an intense thirst for knowledge. There was no doubt in my mind she received that trait from her father. Everything I told her, she absorbed like a dry, water-starved sponge. And, since she was the only person I could actually _talk to_ , I answered without hesitation.

"Hmm, it means they don't pay attention to it. Ignore it instead of accepting it, in this case." Kind of like how I ignored just _how_ I ended up in this world, attached to a strange child that had no business existing.

"Oh. I think I get it!" Kira smiled, showing off her tiny, gapped teeth. I smiled back, pushing away any thoughts of existential issues aside.

It scared me how much I had grown to care for this child. It fell in a realm beyond the fact she was the only one that was able to interact with me. There was something about her, something unseen, which just _drew_ _me_ _in_.

Her pain became mine: the same with her happiness. And she had _so_ _much_ _happiness_ in her heart that, sometimes, it was blinding. To witness that sort of dazzling purity, I would gladly walk through the dark alone and scared.

Much like her parents, I became another planet in the solar system that revolved around her.

 **~END OF PAST JEMMA~**

* * *

 **I tried so hard  
Thought I could do this on my own**

* * *

I stood on a stool, positioned in front of a cabinet mirror. The large violet eyes of a child glared back at me, hard, determined and unflinching. It was progress. For the past 3 months I was unable to do even this small accomplishment.

Before, every glance of any sort of reflective object I came across was another reminder of what had happened. What I had done. Each time was just as jarring and repelling. When my own reflection wasn't looking back at me, replaced by a face I had grown to adore, I felt this paralyzing amount of revulsion for myself.

There were times, though I knew it was a form of self-punishing behavior, I would look _just to remind myself:_

 ** _You did this._**

 ** _This is your fault._**

 ** _You're the reason she isn't here._**

My thoughts would wander to dark places. Area's of my mind so aweful, it took me days to break out of. When the thought of killing myself ran through my mind, I knew something had to change, and soon.

The thought of taking my life was beyond atrocious in my position because _I wasn't in my own body_. To the world around me, I wasn't a depressed woman, I was a distressed _four_ - _year_ - _old_. One who had been hit by lightning, drowned and flat lined for a full minute—and while I missed Akira with my whole fucking being, I needed to _move_ _on_.

I couldn't stay stagnant like this for the rest of however long this lasted, even if it was driven by my own selfishness. Because there was always that traitorous part of me that thought this was my second chance at life. Somehow, I had stood against death and lived to tell the tale.

No, it wasn't fair to the people around me. To those who loved the _real_ Akira. To Akira herself, who was an innocent caught in the crosshairs of my disastrous luck. Never. From where I stood, nothing would ever make this better, nothing would ever make this fair. But when was life fucking _fair?_

To those people, the once happy, energetic child they grew to know became reclusive and pessimistic. She became unresponsive for _months_. Which sucked because all that was, was just _my_ personality shining through.

All of the effort I spent trying to mold Akira into someone _better_ _than_ _me_ was lost. Now, instead of preaching, I had to _act_ on those words. _I_ had to be better.

Yes. Normally I would look into the mirror and want to _scream_. But not this time. _Not the next time, or any other time after this,_ I decided. _I need to become strong_.

I stood in front of this goddamn mirror as a _warrior_.

My nose brushed the thin glass, leaving a small nose smudge.

I was sick and fed-up of being so _fucking sick and fed-up_.

Air entered my lungs, deep and full. _I can do this_. I released the breath slowly, momentarily fogging up the mirror. "I… am Akira."

Tears burned the backs of Akira— _my_ —eyes. _My eyes_ that were the same beautiful shade of violet as _my_ _mothers_. Kushina. Kushina Uzuma—gah, shit. Stupid English brain— _Uzumaki_ _Kushina_ was _my_ mother.

"I am Akira…"

 _Namikaze Minato, future Hokage and god among peasant men_ —a tear fell, for less than innocent reasons— _is my Papa. Papa, not father, not D…daddy._ A fierce blush crept over my ( ** _my_** ) cheeks.

God, my previous world fucked up my head when it concerned that term. How was I supposed to act normal around a man I thought about boning on more than one occasion!? He already thinks I ( _me, Akira_ ) hate him!

Any time he came around, held or even _talked_ _to_ _me,_ I tried my best to get the fuck away. It was stupid, really. So what if he was _attractive?_ I was a grown ass four-year-old! Irrelevant things like that shouldn't _matter_ to me. That was for _puberty_.

Another tear fell. The voice in my head became high pitched and stressed _I'll have to go through puberty_ again _._

My hands formed tight fists against the porcelain of the sink. _God dammit, focus!_

"I am Akira!" I growled to _my_ reflection, a single finger raised, poking at my reflection threateningly. _"Namikaze Minato is my papa!" and you will deal with it!_ I added in my mind, eyes narrowing into little slits.

After another breath, I backed away a little, lowering my head down to stare at my hands on either side of the sink. I closed my eyes, whispering, " **I _am_ Akira.**"

" _Uhm_ … Akira, sweety… _what are you doing?_ "

The intruding voice of Kushina was enough to make me screech and lose my grip on the slippery porcelain, thus my forehead smacked against the glass, leaving a larger smudge. The scream that released from my lungs could've made normal human ears _bleed_. Thankfully ( _resentfully_ ), I was forced into a body that happened to live with two ninja as parents, and they were _far_ from normal.

My existence had become something… _strange._ And that's saying something to a woman who lived four years as a _ghost_.

Being four again came with many changes. However, most of these 'changes' could be that the real Akira was still somehow _inside_ _of_ _me_.

 _…_ _Yeah_. _It was as terrible as it sounded_.

After a particular err… _lapse in judgment…_ about having to eat my vegetables, I held a sneaking suspicion that her and I somehow _merged_. It was the only thing that could explain all this _bullshit_. (or was that what normal, _healthy_ people called 'coping'…? _Real questions being asked, here._ )

A lot of the time, I couldn't control my emotions. Imagine PMSing 24/7, if you will. And if you happen to be male, think of existing ( _why are you guys so angry?_ )

The next example was how I felt the persistent desire to play with toys. There were just _so_ _cool_ and _fun._ Not even my adult brain could counter the need I felt when I saw a fluffy stuffy. It was as if I _had_ to play with it or squish it to me and squeal.

My adult-self would have rolled her eyes at a pile of blocks but not anymore. Those goddamn blocks had better be stacked and stacked _high,_ motherfucker.

Finally, my last example that I was correct, was the fact **I'm living in the world of Naruto.** If _that_ is possible, so is the idea that my separate essences of life somehow mixed, and you can't convince me any different.

And let me tell you, fooling other people around me that I am a four is _hard_. All of those fanfics I read must have _lied through their…words._

…It was all I could do to not let my actual personality shine through like a _professionally waxed turd_. I would be the first to admit my attitude lacked any sort of childish tendencies that could help me. In my old life, I was an asshole. A bleached, pink and puckered a _sshole._

I had an affair with a god damned _married_ _man_ for fucks sake. That in itself should explain just how horrible I had the potential to be. While I felt kind of bad for his wife, my heart lead my vagina and well… _Babies_.

The first time _my_ parents released me to the village and team Minato after the change, they had looked at me _pityingly_. It pissed me off so much I bit Kakashi. _Literally_ _bit_ _him_. Like one of his crazy puppies.

Don't ask why, he just _set_ _me_ _off_. I was a bomb ready to explode and just _thinking_ of how he treated Akira in her last moments of life ( ** _my fault_** ) made me _loathe_ him.

I hoped it scarred, too.

My next obstacle had been that gods damn joke of a psychiatrist, Oishi. The real Akira didn't like him (which in hind-sight was probably my fault, too) so there was no lost love there. The mutual distaste made it easy to be around him. Any time I did speak up, it was to correct him on his job, or to tell him I dreamt of rainbows and kitties (a complete lie. I did that a lot lately).

He had me tested, too. Apparently being electrocuted, drowned, seeing a dead body and being dead myself for two minutes was cause for concern. So what did that genius think of? To give me a _test_. And not your normal _"on a scale of one to five, how sad are you"_ test. _Actual school-like questions._

 _I just…Who—what_. I couldn't take him seriously _._

When the idea had been mentioned to me, I thought it a good opportunity to fail. Prove how much of a four-year-old I was, y'know? Draw some flowers on the pages or some shit. But when he put the small stack of papers in front of me and said some condescending shit, _shit I don't even remember anymore_ , about 'trying my best' it lit a match against my combustible ego and exploded.

The math was basic and the Japanese simple ( _I still refuse to even think about how I can comprehend a completely new language. Nope)_. Even the geography and war section was easy.

OF COURSE it was easy. The test was created for a CHILD.

I scored 100 percent and was dubbed some sort of a genius. It terrified my parents and put me into a two week depression. All I had to do was fail; _something I was actually good at_ , and had somehow fucked that up, too.

They wanted to do more testing, but all three of us rejected the idea. There was no way I was going to make another mistake like that _._ Again.

It was silly, really. Four years of age and people were already expecting _so much_ of me. They called me a prodigy. A carbon copy of my father.

Overall, I was coming (forcing) to accept my new self and new life. I got over the mountain-face-sized bump of being in the Naruto world years ago when I arrived here after I died in my original world (where everything made sense).

I turned around as fast as I could without falling, clutching my throbbing forehead. A huff of irritation exited my lungs toward my new bodies mother. How was I going to explain this? _"Oh, I was just convincing myself I'm the body I snatched. Nothing to see here!"_

 _Riiight_.

"I was… Practicing." All great lies have a seed of truth in them.

Confused worry turned into amusement. "Practicing? Why would you need to practice saying who you are?"

 _Gotta be careful with what I say next._ "For uh, making friends." It came out like a question, but I stuck with it like crazy glue. Kushina watched me with a careful expression—still amused so I'm safe.

This lady, like many of the people I met over the years as a ghost, could be extremely intelligent at times. So smart in fact, who's to say one of these assholes might figure out I'm really a 19 (22?) years-old woman _in the body of my four year-old souls reincarnation!?_

… Alright, I'll admit it's a far stretch; but these fuckers _walked_ _up_ _walls_ and _punched_ _through_ _trees!_

I've seen them do it with my own eyes!

Kushina— _mom_ —smiled widely and flicked my nose. She, as usual, ignored my voiced distaste for the action. Still, a special place in my heart warmed at her strange affections. I missed my old body's mom and the bond we had. Maybe that was why I clutched onto Kushina like a child-sized tick?

"If you wanted friends all you had to do was ask your darling parents, _y'know_! We can get you a friend in _no_ _time!_ " she clutched her hand to her chest in determination and ran out of the bathroom.

I let out a sigh and turned back to the mirror, terrified of what I had just done, but not ready to consider the implications. Minato and Kushina were young parents. They had Akira— _me_ —at 18, making them around 21/22 now. They had gotten pregnant at the same age my old self, Jemma, was when she was pregnant.

I had to admit; the two had very impressive amounts of patience, but Min— _papa—really_ took the cake. He had this natural way of reading people and anticipating what they would want or need, which blended into his position as a father. Between them, I think papa was my favorite hands-down. I stuck to mom, yeah, but papa was my shining star of information. Not that I had _shown_ it. My old emotions and the emotions of my new body were much too jarring at first.

I'd never known what it was like to have a father figure, but I found I quite liked it.

Don't get me wrong, mom was great, but I'd already _had_ a motherly figure. It was hard not to compare the two.

I looked back to the mirror. My once brown, pin-straight hair was now a mess of bright blonde. Much like papa's, it wouldn't just lay down. Violet took place of brown—which was _super_ strange. They didn't come in that color where I came from unless you had contacts or a genetic mutation.

I closely resembled Minato in every aspect—right down to the over-all shape of our eyes. The only thing that distinguished us was the color of said eyes. Thankfully, though, I ( _me. Akira_.) still retained more feminine features. It was a blessing to have such a feminine looking dad, I guessed.

Looking like a boy would have been a total bitch to deal with when I began school. No one wants to deal with bullying and shit.

With a deep breath, I went back to my new morning mantra with renewed determination (I looked like mom).

 **" _I am Akira_."**

* * *

 **I've lost so much along the way**

* * *

"So, Akira-chan. Have you seen Jemma-san?"

 _You have no fucking idea_. "No."

"When was the last time you remember seeing her?"

 _Every god damn day, because I_ am _her._ "When the enemy ninja attacked me."

I sat across from Oishi, comfortably sprawled out on the couch and looking out the familiar window of his office. He was still an insufferable bastard. Since the war was in full swing, our appointments were more and more spaced out. Which was fine by me.

The less time I had to spend with him the better.

Ever since the first time Akira had met with him, he had been extremely careful to take his notes _after_ our sessions. It always amused me.

As if reading my mind, I watched as he reluctantly moved a hand for his notebook, fingers twitching. My eyes narrowed to slits.

"Don't even think about it."

He sighed, defeated. It made me smirk.

"How are the nightmares?

The smirk fell.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Then I'll see your face  
I know I'm finally yours**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **(Flashback/dream)**

 _I stood alone in a field of yellow flowers. The overwhelming, sickeningly sweet floral scent clogged in my nose, making my eyes water. The wind blew calmly over the petals, shifting them back and forth in lazy arcs. It was a phantom wind, I knew, since I felt nothing._

 _Birds sang in the distance, flying around—the birds grew bigger, black. They were circling around a small mound._

 _Heart in my throat, I ran toward the unmoving mound. It took all of my concentration and will to pick my legs up and move. The world around me shifted, the once blue skies turning into a spiraling vacuum of reds, oranges and browns. Lava bubbled around me in thick pools, promising death._

 _I tripped on some unseen forced and fell flat on my face._

 _Slowly, I looked up—angry violet eyes pierced into my soul._

 _Akira's lips moved. Her words were harsh and spoken in a million ageless voices. **"You lied to me."**_

 _In this plane of existence, I was forced to speak to the demon, no matter how much I wanted to run away in silence._

 _"I always lie." It was the truth. Or was it? I was so deep in my own lies that the truth felt foreign on my lips. My tongue stung as if a bee had given up its life in order to punish me._

 _The thing wearing_ Akira's _face grew bigger, towering over me like a skyscraper. **"You took my life away from me."**_

 _"It wasn't my fault, I'm sorry." A lie, and both of us knew it. It always knew when I lied._

 _I had told her she would get to see her mother and father, but instead took over her life. Put on a mask and played pretend. My desire to live again destroyed her. Pushed her out of her own body and took over her soul._

 ** _"Hell has a special place waiting for you, I've made sure. You will beg and beg for mercy that will fall on deaf ears."_**

Good

 _Her eyes were wide in hatred, hatred meant for me. My soul was condemned either way. Dirty and falling through the cracks of the earth, weighed down by the weight of an innocent life._

 _The giant_ thing _multiplied by the millions, all of them screaming in agony as their eyes melted. Lava fell from their eyes, dripping down whiskered cheeks like tears, revealing bone._

It's my fault _, I wanted to scream. To ask for forgiveness from_ her _. To the world, to myself._

 **" _YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGIVEN!"_** _the monsters wailed as one._

I would do it again. _Part of me whispered into my oncoming doom._ I would sacrifice her again because _I_ deserve to live.

 _The lava swept me away, down, down down—hell was waiting for me, souls howled. Boney, splintered fingers clawed at my skin and the damned pulled me into its burning embrace..._

 _…I stood alone in a field of yellow flowers. The overwhelming, sickeningly sweet floral scent clogged in my nose, making my eyes water. The wind blew calmly over the petals, shifting them back and forth in lazy arcs. It was a phantom wind, I knew, since I felt nothing._

 _Birds sang in the distance, flying around—the birds grew bigger, black. They were circling—_

 **(end dream)**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. "…What nightmares?"

* * *

 **I find everything I thought I lost before**

* * *

Unimpressed violet eyes scanned her surroundings. Akira was wrapped in a big, puffy, yellow jacket that clashed with her hair to stave off the cold. The boots on her feet were black, along with her pants. _I look like a goddamn bumblebee_.

True to her words, Kushina was determined to help Akira make friends. They stood on the edge of a playground, the redheaded woman smiling like a dog waiting for praise. It was unnerving. Who knew one innocent half-lie would lead to _this_.

Kids ran around in groups, playing tag, kick-the-can and some just talking. The sun shone on the reflective metal of the monkey bars as children swung back and forth. They also wore heavy jackets to thwart the biting wind.

Winter in the land of fire was rather cold. Frost covered the grass in the mornings, making it shine under the rising sun's glow. To Akira it was beautiful. Stillness surrounded the waking moments of the world (at least around her neighborhood) in a way she had never seen in her old life. The experience made her feel in harmony with the shitty world in which she found herself.

"I'll be sitting over here if you need me, okay?"

The reincarnated woman glanced her mothers way, then back to the children in cold detachment. This was the last place the she wanted to be. Out in the cold with loud, rambunctious children on a weekend. She'd rather be sitting in her warm home with a cup of cocoa, reading alongside her papa.

Alas, Akira voiced none of her dissatisfaction. Instead, she walked away from her safety net at a lazy pace and made her way toward the children. This was for her parents. They worried too much about her mental state; and if making a friend would give them piece of mind, she'd walk through this hell.

When she stood in the center of chaos, a glance was sent back to where her mom sat on a bench, leafing through papers from work. It was easy sometimes to forget that Kushina was, in fact, a seasoned shinobi. A deadly kunoichi with a nine-tailed beast locked inside of her.

Most times Akira thought her to be a complete moron. The woman was _extremely_ hyperactive. Oftentimes her mouth flew faster than her brain, which could be funny when her thoughts bled into her words she didn't mean to say.

Yes, Kushina was an idiot at times.

Then there were the times she was terrifyingly sharp. As if a switch flipped, changing her into someone that resembled an adult. Surprisingly, the soul inside of a child just accepted how strange the woman was. She was her mother now, after all.

A poke on her arm caught her attention. A male child, no more than four, jabbed at her fluffy coat. His hair was a tawny brown, eyes black.

"Hewoaw. Do you wannaw pway?"

Revulsion spread through her body at the sight of shiny boogers hanging from the kids pink nose. It grew to full on offense when his chubby hand wiped those boogers—a finger that _touched_ her. He was sick, she was sure. His eyes were hazed and watery.

"No." she answered honestly.

There was no way she would subject herself to _that_ much torture. She'd _go_ to metaphorical hell, not _live_ there. If she were to make a friend, they would have to be—at the very least—smart. Not as smart as her, considering her mental age out classed all of them. Just smart enough to care about things like spreading germs.

At the harsh rejection (harsh to a child) the little boys face crumpled, fat tears gathered in his eyes. They fell like falling stars, catching the sun in a way that made them shine. The blood left Akira's face when he wailed out, collecting the looks of more children. They began surrounding her, pointing, speaking at once.

"She made Daigo-kun cry!"

"Why you such a meany?"

"Your face has weird marks!"

"You a butt fwace!"

In a sea of chubby, angry faces and voices, Akira couldn't _think_. It was too much like her dreams. A small child screaming at her in numerous voices. They pushing her around, yelling unintelligibly in her ear canals. It echoed until it merged into one voice. **_You will never be forgiven—_**

"MOMMY!"

Kushina came running, scooping her up and holding her close. Parents glared, sneering their way as their kids cried out into their chests. She trembled.

They didn't go back to the park for a while after that accident.

* * *

 **You call my name**

* * *

"Happy birthday, Akira-cha!"

Akira turned to Obito, and tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace. Must have looked so because he visibly shrunk away from her. It was hard to feel happy when she was completely aware of how disgusting all of this was.

Pretending to be a four—now five—year-old was dehumanizing. At the top of the list was having to take baths with her new mother. It wasn't the nudity that made her want to get away from the woman, but _being_ _washed_ that made her feel like a cat in a bath. She would claw and hiss much like a cat, too.

Then there were these, these _weird_ _sensations._ Take now for instance: The way Obito's smile fell at her obvious aversion toward him… Feelings leaked in from her stomach and bled through her body until it reached back to her heart and _squeezed_. Gods, what was this? Her chest felt heavy and… _gross_. It couldn't be…that she felt… _felt_ _bad,_ could it?

 _Shit._

 _Fuck._

 _Piss_.

She felt bad for being mean to _Obito_. The reason she would become an orphan in the future. A person she should _hate_ —one she did hate; just as another person.

 _Someone strike me down and end me._

With a deep breath, the woman now known as Akira tried again. This time, running to him and hugging his leg. It wasn't like the real Akira would, knocking him to the ground with joyful giggles; but a hug nonetheless.

The returning smile he sent her was blinding. With a flat look but now warming stomach, she did what any child would do to someone she loves (it worked wonders on Kushina) and raised her arms in the air in the universal 'hold me' signal. With surprising ease, Obito picked her up and rested her on his hip.

The others looked on and it felt as if there was a collective breath that left everyone in the room.

Today was Akira's birthday. It was a small get together (small because she had yet to acquire the friend she had decided to find) that set her on edge. On the outside, she was a blank surface. Inside was completely different story.

Shrouded in darkness were her thoughts, revolving around the child who's life she had stolen. It was unfair. To both of them. For her to be in charge of a body not belonging to her was unfair.

Why would some god allow something so cruel happen to such an innocent little girl? _Unfair, unfair!_

Obito walked them to the table where a cake with five candles innocently sat. It was a creation of her new bodies mother— _my_ _mother_. A week ago, her mother had asked what kind of cake she wanted. It caught her off guard until she realized the significance of the upcoming date.

To everyone else, it was a day of celebration. Of course it was; Akira had been born. But to the soul inside of the body, it was a dreadful reminder of her death—of the son she was unable to care for.

Kushina hurriedly lit the candles, smiling broadly all the while. Once finished, she held the cake up to her daughter. "Make a wish!"

 _I wish for the strength to get through this alive_.

She blew out the candles. Everyone cheered.

* * *

 **I come to you in pieces**

* * *

 **(POV change)**

There _had_ to be some greater power at work here. Somehow, in some very distant past-life, I had fucked up _big_ _time_. Maybe my past self was Cesar. Possibly Dracula the Impaler? _Wait, why would I only be a male?_

Cesar or not, no one deserved this.

Apparently, the many stops at the playground that always ended in disaster wasn't enough for my mother to abandon the whole 'friend' thing alone. Instead of dropping it, she increased the amount of times we went out on strolls and trips to different playgrounds—ones with only a few children. It was exhausting.

This confusing time era had basic electronics like colored television and cameras but no goddamn cars or internet. Then again, who needs cars when a person could run faster than an airplane or a clan who acted like a living cellphone service? Priorities, I guessed.

According to mom, my reluctant friendship with Obito (something I hated myself for doing) wasn't good enough. He was older and usually couldn't spend time with me outside of the rare times I managed to convince papa to let me tag along to their training. And even then he had to train, not entertain me.

Anyway, to sum up my experience with other children, I'd have to say they were all little ass-munchers. As it turned out, I was actually _pretty_ _good_ at most things. Which took a lot of getting use to considering how terrible 'Jemma' was at everything besides baking. Put a ball in Jemma's hands and she'd trade it for a book as fast as a person could say, " _fuck_ _that_."

Which got me to truly reflect on some shit. Mostly about how different this body _felt_. You know, aside from the whole 'turning-into-a-four-year-old-after-being-an-adult' situation.

Instead of constantly feeling like a potato, this body felt _made_ to be active. It wouldn't allow me to stay still for long. Running was as easy as breathing, or baking. My tiny legs could go for _hours_ if I wanted to.

Things I had found strenuous in my past life didn't affect me nearly as much. And as a bonus, I actually kind of _liked_ _it_. I had always wanted to be like those healthy girls in my old world. The ones who went to the gym and post pictures of their abs on Instagram.

Running was the quickest way I had found to clear my mind of the (many) possible ways I could (and probably would) die in this world. The thought there was as long as I could run fast, I would be able to get away from bad guys and have a chance of living.

My mind tried slipping to the memory of a wicked smile and the tangy smell of blood, but I cunt-punched that shit outta my mind-space and into my favorite chained up box labeled " _Nope._ "

Nobody got time for that repressed memories BS I acquired when plopping into this body.

Shit… That only reminded me of how mom and papa were going to die in a few years.

Well. That idea can be labeled as " _fuck nope_ " now.

I'd decided long ago not to fuck with all of these people's lives. It wasn't my place to chance fate and put myself in the way of danger. I was already pretending to be someone else, I didn't want the moral dilemma that came with deciding who got to live or die. Then again… That sounded pretty bad ass.

 _No. Bad thought, self. I won't play god with those around me no matter how cool that sounds._

Of course, in being Akira, I couldn't just _change_ _over_ _night_. I had to act like a normal child and at first I think I was doing okay. Until the night after my birthday when papa had told me that it was okay to cry and that I didn't have to shut him out anymore.

So, I did as he told me to do and cried. I cried all night, wrapped in the arms of two parents that I was starting to think of as _mine_. It felt good, even if the sudden changes did startle them a bit.

I acted more mature—to a point—and became more reserved. I tended to be asocial to those around me (except Obito. He wiggled himself too far into my heart for me to stand getting rid of the poor fool) at times, but always attempted to show a more childish side to them.

Eventually, I had become a tad happier. More open to social situations.

…Crap what was I even originally going on about…?

OH YEAH.

 _Karma_.

My mom and I were walking to my incoming doom.

The dirt road, densely packed into stone from years of feet treading along it, scraped under my sandals. Great trees stood tall and proud amongst various buildings. It was obvious why the place was named 'the Village Hidden in the Leaves.'

From my place on the ground, I could see ninja traveling across rooftops and trees alike at incredible speeds. It no longer shocked me. Instead, random thoughts would appear in my head, like how the roof business here must be banging.

"Now when we get there, I want you to be on your _best_ behavior." Mom spoke up, jarring me from my thoughts.

The only answer I had for her was an acknowledging hum. When her shoulders slumped, I felt a pang of regret. After Kushina and Minato took notice the abrupt change in Akira— _MY_ —behavior, they became overly concerned.

Now, after I woke up from the glance at my soul _in the wrong body_ months ago, I'll admit to falling into a depression of sorts. I'd skip meal times, ignore everyone around me and all-around make my distaste for the world a very well-known subject.

Thankfully (silverlingings) everyone around me had chalked it up to trauma from seeing a dead body and being attacked (dying). _–A body that died while still smiling, surrounded by a puddle of sticky red blood_ — **Into the box you go.**

While I _was,_ indeed, fucked up and traumatized at seeing death at first hand and briefly touching it ( _not poking that damn box!_ )—who wouldn't!? Blood had sprayed across my face and—well it just wasn't a fun moment, lets leave it at that.

Nonetheless, every time I heard good ol' mom and dad chatting about me, they'd made it pretty clear how they wanted to break the (protective) shell I had wrapped tightly around myself.

It was hard. Seeing the sadness in their eyes. So, for their sake, I went along with _everything_ they came up with in order to 'cheer' me up. All of that I could deal with. Easy-peazy.

But _this!?_ I was legitimately close to _shitting_ myself.

Before I knew it, we were at a door. _The_ door. The door that would probably lead to my (second) premature death.

It opened.

"Hello Kushina-san!" a beautiful woman replaced the demon door. Her hair was silky straight and so black, it shone with blue hints where the light hit it. Her eyes were black as night and held nothing but warmth and acceptance.

I felt myself relaxing in her presence. She seemed like one of those people who couldn't help but be genuine.

"Hello Mikoto-san. Thank you for this." Mom replied with a sloppy bow.

I wanted to roll my eyes at how dramatic she could be. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the smaller figure hidden slightly behind Mikoto. I froze, previous relaxation fading away.

His light black hair hung straight around his head, his bangs framing his rather feminine face. Though his eyes were the same color as his moms, there was very little warmth in them. There was this _knowing_ in them that didn't belong on the face of a four year-old.

Mom nudged me forward with an elbow and hastily hissed a, "introduce yourself!"

Immediately I complied and bowed forward, keeping careful watch on the boy in front of me. "Hello. I am Uzumaki-Namikaze Akira. It's a pleasure to meet you." It was always such a mouthful, but mom wanted to make sure papa's name lived on while also allowing me to feel a belonging to her clan.

The little boy bowed forward, eyes never leaving mine. "Uchiha Itachi. Nice to meet you."

* * *

 **So you can make me whole**

* * *

Both mothers were grinning widely as Mikoto invited us into her home. I entered cautiously. Not that I expected to be attacked in a clan heads household—this was the _Uchiha_ we were talking about—but one can never be too careful.

It was a nice place. Big, yet clean and organized—just how I liked it. The scent of apple pie filled the air, making my mouth water. I paused. What were the chances Mikoto knew my favorite dessert? What if this was a tactic to make me feel more welcome in unknown territory, thus creating a sense of security?

Then just as quickly as the thought crossed my mind, I tossed it away because _apple pie!_

"Is that apple pie?" I blurted out; ignoring the unpleasant look mom sent my way.

Mikoto let out a feminine laugh behind a bashful hand and nodded. "Yes it is Akira-chan. You're welcome to have some as soon as it's finished cooling off."

I was quick to nod, blissful at the thought of homemade apple pie. Mom was a great cook, there was no doubt about that, but her baking abilities were lacking. Then again, I was a dessert slut and baker in my old life so I tended to be a bit critical of others.

"Now now, Akira," mom said, crossing her arms, "we didn't come here just for pie. How about you and Itachi-kun go play while we adults catch up?"

Again, this wasn't fair.

I'd howl at the moon if I could. The last thing I wanted to do was spend time with _the_ future clan killer! One that grows into an emotionally distant murderer who fucked up his little brother in the head! What kind of demented things would he try to do to me?

Would he try to make me his minion of evil?

 _Stop that!_

This was for mom and papa's sake. I couldn't burden them with worry any longer. Itachi was one of my only chances at making my parents act their normal, jolly selves again. I _couldn't_ fuck this up.

Therefore, instead of begging mom to _please_ let me stay, I Sashayed Away after Itachi, going further into the house. Compared to where we lived, this was a _mansion_. The Uchiha clan must be considerably wealthy.

I wondered if that meant Sasuke was extremely rich. He would be the only living Uchiha that could inherit the fortune, after all. Whoever he married would be set for life. That was a thought to think of later.

Then I wondered how long I would have to subject myself in the presence of a semi-sociopath. Not that I had anything against the kid now, he was only four, but what if I did something that fucked up the future?

My only saving grace was the fact he couldn't be that bad if he's a toddler. …right? He was no doubt groomed to be a great host, even if he was only four.

"Here we are." Itachi's soft, low voice said. _Even his damn voice was trying to trick me!_

We stood in front of a door. It wasn't marked in any special way, just your average screened sliding door. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. There was nothing he could do to me. We were both children, and our mom's were just down the hall.

As I looked to Itachi again, I filled myself with determination instead of fear. I deflated slightly at the look of confusion he was sending me. Was there something on my face?

After an awkward pause where I rubbed at my cheeks, he seemed to gather himself with a shake of the head. He then opened the door.

It was… A playroom?

Oh. Well that wasn't so scary. Actually, it was pretty fucking cool.

There were toys. _So many toys_. Blocks, puzzles, books, animal figures, BOOKS—I was so interested in all of his cool stuff I barely registered when he moved past me to go further into the room. He sat regally at a child-sized table and motioned for me to join him.

There were two chairs set up on either side and on top was a blue porcelain tea set. As I made my way over to him, I could see steam rising from the teapot. I raised my eyebrows.

"Your parents let you handle hot water?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He only spared me a quick glance, too focused on his task. "Yours don't?"

"Not since I spilled a pot of boiling water on myself. After that, Papa has been adamant in keeping me far away from stoves."

"Hn. How long ago was that?"

 _Small talk it is._ I took the empty seat across from him, and placed my folded hands on the table.

"About two years."

"That seems a bit much."

I waved a hand flippantly. "He's overbearing at times, but I know it's because he cares." I watched as his expression changed to one close to sadness, but it quickly changed as he set back to the task of pouring us tea.

Without further niceties, I cut to the chase. "Listen, I can see you don't want to be spending any time with me just as much as I don't want to spend any with you."

"How do you know that? Maybe I am enjoying our time together."

My 'r u srs?' face must have done the trick because he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. I continued.

"My parents think the only way to 'fix' me is for me to make friends in the hopes I will stop being a recluse." I took a sip of the hot tea and hummed in happiness. The kid could make some good tea. I sighed. "So far I've been subjected to whiny brats that can't stand losing at simpleton games. And while I understand them, I refuse to lose just to make a connection with someone who will later leave.

"So I'll give you a choice in the matter, since you seem to be less of a barbarian than those other idgets."

"…You use a lot of big words."

"Did you not hear a single thing I just said!?"

He took a long sip of his tea with narrowed, analyzing eyes trained directly to my own.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Was it how Sasuke would look at Naruto? Me being inferior and useless? Probably. Clans tended to think that way.

My own clan was annihilated only for the fact they were _feared_.

Fear bred hatred, and hatred, resentment. That was why I couldn't make friends with the other kids. They thought my being better than them at silly games was a threat to whatever hierarchy they set up long before I came to the playground.

At the end of the day, those children only wanted to put me down and make fun of me. Just for being a little different. Just for being _me_. As if it were _my_ fault I was good at kick-the-can. Hell even _I_ didn't know why I excelled at such a childish game. As Jemma, I would have hissed at the concept _of_ _going_ _outside_.

"What is this 'choice' you are giving me?" If I didn't know any better I would think Itachi was almost amused at my behavior, if not a bit reluctant and confused.

I leaned my head into the palm of my hand, resting my elbow on the table. "Choice number one: I leave here and tell my mom I'd rather befriend a stray cat, thus both of us would be free of friendly obligation. Or choice number two," I held two fingers up, "we go play or do something cool while pretending to have a fun time and my parents can get off my back about not having enough nor any friends."

Itachi mirrored my relaxed position and tilted his head to the side. "That seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to get your parents 'off your back'." I shrugged, looking at my reflection in the tea. A moment passed. "What is in it for me?"

A snort escaped me. _This guy_. "As if your mom set this play date up for only my benefit. I'm not blind; she's just as wound up as my parents. Consider out acquaintanceship a win-win situation."

After my final speech, I brought my mind back to myself. I glanced back up to Itachi and could practically feel myself sweat-drop as I had seen so many times in anime. The dude was _staring_ _into_ _the_ _windows_ _of_ _my_ _soul_.

Honestly, I was sort of waiting for him to admit he saw dead people or some creepy shit like that. He could totally get a star role in Children of the Corn, that was for sure.

Unable to help it (though if asked I would _swear_ it was because of my new younger age), I found myself fidgeting under his intense gaze. I looked anywhere but his black eyes, instead finding my hands _much_ more interesting

"…"

"…"

"…Want to train?"

My mind drew a blank. "Train what?" my voice was bland. Those black eyes looked back to me just as dully, making me shift in my seat again. _Its because I'm five, that's it._

"I do not know. Maybe kunai throwing." He shrugged as if it were _normal_ to casually ask such a thing—and his speech was so _proper_.

Well… I _had_ given him a choice. I just never expected him to _accept_. "…Sure."

* * *

 **I've come undone**

* * *

Being a woman in a child's body ( _damn it never got less disturbing to say_ ) did not help with how unbelievably wary I was of the boy beside me. If anything, it made me even _more_ so. I couldn't pin-point if it was because I wanted to impress him, or because my five year old brain thought he was _cute_. ( _so fucking gross_ ).

When we got outside, as if in reflex, I took in the area.

There was a rack of wooden swords and other interesting training weapons neatly placed under the awning of the house. The Uchiha main house was very traditional in Japanese terms with its sliding paper doors and roofed walkways.

To the left of the expansive back yard, attached to rather small tree, was a simple circular target ringed in red with dot in the center. There were marks from past abuse scattered all over the board, most of them rounding close to the center.

The sound of trickling water came from a cute little koi pond on the far right, which I noticed with barely contained glee. Koi fish were so adorable! I wondered absentmindedly if I would be able to feed them…

Itachi stuck his arm out my way, causing me to flinch slightly. ( _She watched as he raised a hand to her. A blinding light shoot from his fingers—_ ) **_Stop_.**

He looked at me with an insistently raised brow. I glanced down…

"Those are _real_ kunai, Itachi." I voiced out plainly, as I looked back up to his endless black eyes, playing off the flinch as nothing. Which it totally wasn't. Just hanging out with an armed future murderer.

 _No big deal_.

"Yes, they are." He replied simply.

I raised a brow in irritation. "You're four and I'm five… shouldn't we play with something more, I don't know, _safe_?" Seriously. What was he thinking? _We_ _were_ _children!_

For the second time since my arrival at the Uchiha main house, emotion crossed Itachi's relatively blank face. It was a mixture of pure confusion and amusement. "Are you afraid of hurting yourself, Akira-san?"

Was that a challenge? It sure _sounded_ a lot like a challenge. He had even used my first name. Did that mean he wanted to be friends?

Friends or not, my eyes narrowed. If I were to look further into this situation, it could have seemed as if he were _baiting_ me. And _goddammit_ I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Like one of the damn koi fish.

I took one of the kunai from his hand with my chest puffed out. "I'm not afraid of anything, _ya'know_! Just watch, I'll hit the bulls-eye no problem!" With an air of superiority, I walked toward the target. During the short walk, I realized three _Very_ _Important_ things.

One: I had never held a kunai before, let alone _thrown_ one— _holy shit what if I stab myself?_

Two: Our moms were watching in amusement from the kitchen window, nudging each other conservatively—did they think this was _cute_? This was war, dammit!

And finally, Three: I was way out of my comfort zone holding this sharp object. The way I held it was close to how a newbie held a loaded gun.

Newbies normally shot themselves on accident.

Itachi was a Gods damn prodigy; he was going to make me look like a goo-goo eyed _baby_. Sure, there were whispers of me being a prodigy, but only _I_ knew that it was all false. The only reason they thought that was because I was a 22 year old woman in the body of a fucking child.

Compared to other children the age of my body, of course I'd seem to be something special.

Was it normal in this world to allow four year-old's to handle such sharp equipment? And most importantly _why was no one stopping us?_

I came to a stop when I stood a few steps from the damned target (being closer gave me more of a chance of at least _hitting_ the board.) I could already feel my face heating up. The very last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself in front of someone like _Itachi Uchiha_.

He didn't seem the type to ever let go of something like this, especially after all of my previous macho-talk.

Realizing I was just standing there, I dug deep down into myself, harnessed my Inner Ninja, and took a stance I _may_ have seen from a television show in my first try at life. I took a deep breath in—trying to calm myself and rushing thoughts—and on the exhale, threw the kunai with as much force as my little body could muster.

It hit the plank of wood with a dull thump… and bounced off.

I dropped, falling to my hands and knees, dejected. _I failed_.

The God in charge of my reincarnation must have been one of misfortune: throwing a person like me into a ninja world when I had absolutely _no_ skill to account for.

My mom would probably never let me live down the humiliation, and Papa would definitely disown me all together. He was one of the best shinobi in our village, renowned for his skills and placed in bingo books all around as "flee on sight." He was the _future_ _Hokage_ , for petes sake!

Then there was me. His daughter. Can't even throw a kunai, never practiced ninja arts and can only win at _kick-the-can_.

What sounded like barely contained laughter echoed from behind me, filling up the once quiet empty space of the backyard. Chancing a glance back, I was met with the sight of Itachi doubled over; clutching his stomach as he shook uncontrollably. He looked up at me for a moment, paused, and then promptly broke out into gawks of laughter.

 _Good_ _god_ , I wished the ground would swallow me up and spit me in hell where I belonged. Then again, _maybe this was hell_. Sure did _seem_ like hell.

Tears swam in my eyes when Itachi continued his laughter, no stop seemingly in sight. He even had the gull to fucking _point_ _at_ _me_ while he laughed.

Something deep inside of me, something immature and unrefined began filling with anger at the blow to my ego. I thought back to the other children, pointing and yelling.

"What're you laughin' at, you little twerp!?" I shouted at him, jumping straight to my feet. Heat overtook my face and body. At that point I was convinced even my damn _fingertips_ were blushing.

 _So… this_ _is_ _humiliation_.

"You… You could have just said you never threw _kunai_ before." He spoke between haughty laughs. The way he said the word 'kunai' had me puffing my hackles up like a pissed off cat.

My small pale hands balled into little fists. He was the one that wanted to train in the first place! _Train_. Instead of something fun like tea parties or Save the Princess! Why was he being so cruel? It wasn't like every child's parents wanted them to become some sort of super ninja.

 _Not everyone was strong_.

Without a thought in my mind, I threw myself at him. He fell beneath me with a huff of air and my balled fist connected with his cheek, hard enough to make even _me_ cry out in pain.

Faces were _hard_.

The world flipped as Itachi easily switched our positions and hit me back, right in the mouth. I felt as my lip split open. It kind of felt like a paper cut—If the paper was attached to a damn rock.

Being hit was just as terrible as I had previously thought.

I wiggled and bucked my hips forward, trying as hard as I could to _get_ _him_ _off_. And I did, to my great surprise. After what felt like an eternal struggle, I was able to wedge my foot between our bodies and with all of my mini-might fury, pushed into his stomach: successfully shoving him off. In the time it took me to accomplish that small feat (no pun intended), Itachi hit me again; this time near my eyebrow.

I felt something tickle down my temple, wet and smooth. Confused, I brought my shaking hand to the sensation and felt wetness. I pulled the appendage back and my mouth dropped open.

 _He made me bleed!_ ( _T **he** re **w**_ **a _s_** _ a st_r _a_ ** _n_** _g e s **m** ell i **n** _th _e_ _a **i** r. It r_e _m **ind** ed her _**o** _f_ **coins** _. S **h** e s **wal**_ l ** _ow_** _ed pa **st** _t _he lum_p _in_ **h** _er t h_r **o** ** _a_** _t. I_ f s _h e di **dn'** t ha_v _e t_ **h** a _t t **err** i_b _le_ **stench** _in **h** er n_ **o** s _e, s **h** e cou **l** d al_ **mo** _s **t** _c _o nvin **ce** h_ers _e **l** f the _**m** _an **w** as **sl**_ **e _e_** _pin g. The _**red** **liquid** _t h **a** t s **u** rrou_ **n** d _ed **h**_ **is _b_** _o **d** y w_ **a** _s **e**_ **no** ug _h f_ **o** _r h **e**_ **r** _ t_ **o** _u n **d** **ers**_ **ta** n _d—)_

I shook my head, desperate to get the images out of my mind. A cold sensation slithered its way through my chest. I pushed it down as far as I could.

Before I could jump back on him and rock his face like a fuckin' monsoon, hands tucked under my armpits and plucked me up and away. Of course, I fought the grip, practically frothing at the mouth like some rabid animal (maybe a rabid raccoon—you know; considering the shiner Itachi no doubt placed on my eye).

"Akira! What the hell!"

"Itachi, control yourself!"

"She started it!"

"And I'll finish it too, _ya'know_! Let me go mom, my foot has a playdate with Itachi's ass!"

There was a deep intake of air, and that was the moment I knew; _I fucked up_.

"Uzumaki-Namikaze Akira! I _know_ I did not hear that word come from your mouth!"

"But mom-" She put me back on the ground and shook her finger in my face. I went cross-eyed in an attempt to keep up with the waving appendage.

"Don't you _but mom_ me, little missy! I think it's about time you were met with a nice bar of soap, _ya'know!_ "

I could feel the blood leave my face at the thought of another sudsy mouth. Then, I was staring at her through eyes squinted into little slits. I folded my arms over my chest in defiance. "…Can't discipline me if you can't catch me!" I shouted, taking off with enough force to kick grass up in my wake.

I did not make it far.

* * *

 **But you make sense of who I am**

* * *

For some ungodly reason, Itachi invited me over to his house to play again. Whenever I asked him why he would still want to be my friend, he would just shrug.

"You're not like normal girls."

Part of me couldn't help but be a little flattered any time he stated that. The other part _seriously_ considered asking him if he was a masochist. I tossed that thought aside. He probably didn't know what that was and I'd get in trouble again if I told him. But he had to be one—a masochist. Who in their right mind wanted to be friends with a girl who _hit_ them?

Which was something I admittedly did a lot. Whether it was a punch to the arm or a smack to the back of his head when he was being a snob.

Did he see something in me that inclined him to be my friend? Sure, people around me would coo and say how _adorable_ and _perfect_ I was, but Itachi was _actual_ perfection. He was also in a higher social class than me.

Yet…

Okay. _So maybe the clan killer wasn't_ _terrible_.

I mean, wasn't the reason he did it because his clan was plotting against the Leaf and doing so would have created another war? That Danzo guy, he'd given him false orders, right? And something about his brother… Eye implants… Wasn't he still technically a Leaf shinobi? I tossed those thoughts aside.

Those things I worried about, that was for the future. It didn't matter _now_.

He even _apologized_ for hitting me and making fun of me, vowing to teach me how to 'not to be so pathetic.' So all day long on our second play date, Itachi taught me like some mini-sensei.

First, he showed me how to properly throw a kunai. He stated my stance wasn't terrible, it was the way I _handled_ the weapon and _threw_ it. When we grew tired of tossing things, he showed me a few fighting stances.

It was fun, I found. Learning how to protect myself. There was also the added bonus that I wouldn't be completely helpless if someone attacked me again.

By the time our shoulders became sore and our stomachs rumbled, we were called back into the house.

Mom and Mikoto made us egg sandwiches and after gave us big slices of pound cake (the apple pie was gone, sadly).

I babbled on and on about how talented Itachi was and begged my mom to let me spend more time with him. His resulting blush to my praises made his mother smile and my mother coo. It didn't bother me.

We were cute as fuck and I knew it.

Now at first, it was going to be an act. Something to silence the worry of my parents and occupy my time. Yet somehow, I grew to mean every word I spoke.

If I had to pinpoint the _exact_ _moment_ my heart began mending, I would have to say it started that day with my new best friend.

* * *

 **Like puzzle pieces in your eye**

* * *

 **~End~**

 ** _Extra:_**

"You sure have been thinking a lot since Akira-chan left, Itachi." Mikoto took a sip of her lemonade. "What's on your mind?"

Itachi's face scrunched up in confusion against the icepack on his cheek, eyes shining in childish curiosity. "What does 'acquaintance' mean?" His playdate with the older girl left him sore and dumbfounded. She had flung out words he didn't understand, pretended to know how to throw a kunai and said bad words.

He didn't know what to think. If he were honest, he just went along with it and brought up something to do that he was comfortable with: training. It wasn't _his_ fault she had made a fool of herself, no matter how funny he found it.

Mikoto paused, lips twitching up in humor. She closed her eyes and spoke in a nonchalant manner, "It is the stage between knowing someone and friendship."

"Friendship? Akira-san wants to be my friend?"

"I think so."

"Then why did she hit me and call me names?"

The older woman hummed in thought, "She was embarrassed, dear. The Uzumaki can be rather... brutish when it come to their emotions. From what her mother told me, Akira-chan has been having troubles since someone from another village bypassed the walls and hurt her." Mikoto paused, tilting her head, "Akira-chan looked rather excited to practice with you. Maybe you could teach her how to throw a kunai?"

Itachi thought of the way Akira had treated him differently than all of the other kids he had met. Instead of being nervous or fearful, she treated him the same as everyone else. There wasn't a ' _Uchiha-kun'_ anywhere to be heard, either.

She wasn't even like any of the _girls_ he had met before. They all refused to get their clothes dirty, only wanting to play house where he would be the husband and how they had kids—it made him uncomfortable.

But not Akira—she had punched him! _Him_. The clan heir of the proud Uchiha clan. Over him laughing about what she did. Had he said something wrong to warrant being hit? Maybe it was him pointing at her? That was rather rude of him…

The clan heir thought of spending more time with the brazen, foul-mouthed blonde with strange markings on her cheeks and the weird expressions she made: to become friends with the newest oddity of Konoha.

"Friends..." Yes. He quite liked that idea. The warmth in Itachi's smile could have heated the village for years. "I would like that."

 **End**

 _Don't forget to review! Follow to get emails when I update & favorite to feed my ego!_

 ** _Songs:_**

 ** _Chapter one: Angel by: Theory of a dead man_**

 ** _Chapter two: Pieces by: Red_**


	3. Chapter 3: Disgust

**Edited: 08/17/2018**

* * *

 **And as the world  
turns to twilight,**

 **You bury  
my memory.**

 **(Unknown)**

* * *

 **START**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Disgust**

…

 _The wind blew through throngs of people as they cried. Tears falling shamelessly from their eyes like overcast rain-clouds. Amongst the mourning crowd stood a confused little girl, standing dutifully at her mothers side._

 _Both, like all of the others around, were dressed in black. It looked as if a giant squid left splashes of ink over the carefully managed grass. The pair stood the closest to a rectangular hole in the ground as a large box was placed on some metal contraption over the hole._

 _Her mother wore a dark lace veil that covered her tear-tracked face._ Its a strange thing to wear _, the girl thought. No one else was wearing one from what she could tell. Why was her mom?_

 _As she pondered, her caramel eyes traveled across the rows of people around them. The barely contained sobs coming from the group, made up mostly of family and strangers, carried on the wind like a particularly sad symphony._

 _It was a sad day, after all. A day formally marking the end of someone's life._

 _The little girl pushed her chestnut brown hair behind her ear and looked up to her mother inquisitively. "Mommy?" she prodded, grabbing her mothers hand in her smaller one and tugging._

 _Her young mind couldn't comprehend why everyone was so sad. Why everyone was wearing black, standing around a hole to watch as a black lacquered box steady lowered into its muddy maw._

 _She knew inside of that box was her father. She had seen the same exact black box just before the long ride to the field filled with named stones. The only difference was that one side of the box had been open, showing the torso of a man she barely knew._

 _At first, she had thought her father to be sleeping. Her mom use to complain about how little sleep he got, thanks to his job; so maybe they bought him a special bed?_

 _It didn't explain the people watching and crying, though. Nor the dozens of pictures of him or even the priest praying over his unconscious body—so sleeping was the only thing that_ made sense _._

" _Mommy," she tried again, tongue darting out nervously to lick her already chapped lips. "Why are they putting daddy in the ground?" her question was innocent in nature, but strangely enough, it made the people around cry harder. Her brows pulled together in another wave of confusion. Had she done something wrong again?_

 _Her mother, beautiful and delicate in nature, kneeled beside her. Many times, she opened her mouth to speak; but none came out. Her hand fluttered over the child's chubby cheek, the touch reminding her of a butterfly._ At least she stopped wringing her hands together _, the girl thought._

 _Why couldn't someone just_ tell _her what was happening? Already people had made great efforts not to look at her in the eyes. Instead, they would turn to her mother and say how sorry they were._

 _Whatever_ that _meant._

" _It… It's hard to explain, Jemma. You're too young to understand." Her mother murmured finally, voice cracking._

 _Tired of looking into the tear-filled hazel eyes of her mother, Jemma drew her attention back to the bed-box that her father slept in._

 _Something told her she was supposed to be sad. That the people around her expected her to have broken down and cried, screaming until nothing was left of her but shaking bones. Yet, she wasn't—she helped with gardening enough to guess what was going on. She was the smartest in her class, after all._

" _How is it hard to explain? They are planting him, right? So he's going to become a plant—or a tree!" her brown eyes darted back to her mom, excitement making her smile brighten enough to eclipse the mourning around her._

 _Who wouldn't want to be a tree? Her teacher said they filter the air everyone breathes. How cool was that?_

 _A slow breath left her mother. The older woman's touch firmed as it began running through her only child's hair._

"… _Yes, baby. Daddy's time here as a human is over but… He'll grow into a_ beautiful _tree. A tree so big: his roots will reach the heart of the earth and join with every other tree on the planet. That way, no matter where you go, he will_ always _be there." The older woman wrapped her arms around her daughter in a tight embrace. "He will watch over you. Be there to shield you from all of your fears. Sleeping and awake."_

 _It was years later—when Jemma grew older—that she learned the truth. From then on, she decided she did not particularly enjoy funerals._

* * *

" _Pookah come back!"_

 _Dead grass crunched under Jemma's sneaker clad feet as she ran: breath heavy and lungs screaming. She knew nothing good would have come from going to a dog park. What teenager in their right mind even left the house? Surely there wasn't anything_ too _great about the outdoors. Like studying for her bio test tomorrow._

 _Yet, there she was; forced by her mother to take Pookah on 'field trip' so she could 'be social.'_

 _The two year-old Pomeranian had taken off as soon as Jemma had let her guard down to send her best friend, Marcy, a text. Her hold hadn't been the strongest to begin with and, with only one tenth of her mind on him, the little rat yanked his leash from her lax fingertips and booked it._

 _Her heart rose to her throat when Pookah made to dash out in the middle of the busy street—but before her faithful rat could make it, a man ran up and scooped the small, white fuzz-ball into his arms._

 _Seeing this, Jemma let out a cry of joy. Her dog was safe—and she could finally stop running!_

 _Out of breath, the brunette bent over, signaling the man with a finger to give her a moment. It wasn't like she was overweight or anything. Sure, she was substantially squishy in places—but not in an unhealthy way!_

 _Not overweight, just, you know—_ out of shape _._

" _Wow. How long have you been running?" the man asked with a hint of mirth in his deep voice._

 _Well she definitely wasn't going to tell him—or anyone—the truth. "Two…" a huff, "Miles…." She breathed in and out a few more times before finally straightening up with what she prayed was a thankful smile (it was more of a grimace)._

 _Her face promptly turned beat red._

 _He was_ so Hot _._

 _After a moment of staring like some sort of nutcase, Jemma blurted out, "T-thank you so much for grabbing him!"_

 _The smile he sent her made her knees feel like jelly. Amusement sparkled in his light gray eyes, "Always a privilege to help a pretty girl out."_

 _Jemma's heart pumped hard and fast. She bit her lip in an attempt to hide the smile that threatened to split her face in two. It had been a while since someone had treated her so nice, less so called her pretty. And he was a stranger! A very attractive one, too._

" _U-um… My Jemma name is…_ Wait _." She wanted to kick herself. Had she forgotten how to speak!? "My name is Jemma!" was her hurried correction._

 _The stranger laughed outright, showing off pearly white teeth. Pookah barked, wiggling around in the man's arms. "Here… I think this is yours…" he took a step closer, intent on giving the dog back to its rightful owner. Jemma took the ball of fluff and fury, a dreamy smile on her face._

 _Their hands brushed and for a moment and she found herself suspended in the moment. It was_ perfect _. A new feeling swelled in her chest, flickering and combusting into a roaring inferno._

" _My hero." She crooned, a smirk rising on one side of her lips._

 _Too soon he pulled away, taking with him the smell of leather and probably some super expensive cologne. The stranger letting out a chuckle. His large hand brushed his inky black hair back into its brushed-back position._

" _My name's Samuel."_

 _Maybe outside wasn't as bad as she had thought._

* * *

Akira ran away from Itachi, cackling like a maniac who broke out of a mental institute. It was a bright, sunny and clear day—not a single cloud in sight. Many people were out, embracing the warmth after the chilling winter Konoha recently experienced.

The wind carried a cool, lazy breeze, and with it, the scent of flowers and cut grass. It was just what she had needed. Fresh air. Being cooped up in the house had almost driven her (completely) insane.

"All of your smarts are worth nothing if you can't run fast enough, Tachi _._ " Akira teased, turning her head back long enough to stick her tongue out at her silently fuming best friend.

These were the kind of days she _loved._

Papa and his team were off for three more days since they recently got back from a taxing mission. It must have been really bad, too. Her Papa's normally bright blue eyes were clouded with some emotion that was a foreign sight on the usually joyful blonde man's face.

He put up a good front when facing other people, but the reincarnated woman knew something was bothering him deeply. Her answer? Make his heart melt by the combination of hers and Itachi's overwhelming cuteness. It was also to help her mother, too.

Every time Papa left for an extended amount of time, her mother became a stressed squirrel. So much so, it made her go into an infamous 'super-cook-mode'.

The outcome was tons of extra (delicious) food the three strong family had no way of eating on their own. So, they came up with the idea to get rid of it by having a picnic. What better way to make food disappear than to have two teenage boys around?

A great idea, if she did say so herself. Anything that had to do with food and being surrounded by her favorite people was _always_ a great idea.

She was so excited with the prospects of a picnic; Akira had run to Itachi's house in order to invite him along. Her best friend agreed automatically and told his mother where they were going.

It was probably a decision Itachi was regretting as of that moment as Akira expertly stayed _just_ out of his reach, his last stick of dango in hand. As extra incentive, she haphazardly swung her arms in an attempt to make him nervous. How terrible would it be to do _so_ _much_ chasing only for the delicious treat to fall victim to the grass?

Being the faster of the two, Akira took advantage of it as much as she could. She giggled, peaking over her shoulder for the millionth time to look at the overly determined face of Itachi.

He was just so _adorable_ when he made that expression!

"Come on, _Tachi_ - _kun_ , you gotta try harder than tha- _AHH!_ " Her foot caught on a protruding rock (that looked suspiciously dog shaped— _that thrice damned Kakashi_ ) sending the eccentric child face first into the grass with a loud _oof_.

On her way down to the unforgiving ground, a sharp intake of air echoed from behind, coming from the black haired prodigy, and the dango disappeared from her hand in a speeding blur.

Moaning, Akira sat up, spitting grass out of her mouth. " _Bleh!_ " her spine cracked as she turned to her 'best friend', violet eyes narrowed, promising pain. He stood at a safe distance, casually munching on his saved treat.

"What kind of person allows their friends to _eat_ _dirt_?" She spoke, voice deceptively calm.

His gaze was serious, no hint of regret in those ebony depths. If anything, he looked _amused_. "You took my food." He replied with a shrug.

Akira huffed in irritation, wiping the rest of the dirt from her chubby cheeks before turning her blazing gaze Kakashi. "You'll _pay_ for that."

The silver-haired teen looked back to her with heavy-lidded dark gray eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." He turned, mumbling something that sounded along the lines of _"I'm already paying for it."_

"Oh you know very well _what!_ That cute puppy rock didn't just appear out of nowhere." The reincarnation accused, pointing to him.

Rin, who sat between Kakashi and Obito, waved her hands dramatically in an effort to calm the upcoming tantrum. "I'm sure Kakashi-kun didn't do anything Akira-chan."

Obito gaped at his female teammate. " _Yeah_ _right._ I'm with Akira-chan on this one. Kakashi's a bastard- _OW!"_ a hand came out from seemingly nowhere and karate chopped onto the top of the Uchiha's head. "What the hell was that for?"

Attached to the hand was an angry redhead, tendrils of fiery hair swimming above her head like tentacles. "Watch your language around the children!" Kushina yelled back, hitting him on the head again as if the action would make her words stick by sheer force of will.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! _Have mercy!_ " Obito yowled out, pain filled tears leaking from the sides of his eyes.

Akira ran up to them with a wounded expression, not liking that someone else was picking on _her_ nii-chan. She plopped into his lap, wrapping her arms protectively around his neck. "Don't hurt Obito-nii-chan, mom! You'll make him lose _even_ _more_ brain cells! It's not _his_ fault he's an idiot…"

" _Hey!_ "

"Shh," her tiny hand reached up to rub circles on his face, "You just need to accept it."

His shoulders slumped, dejected.

* * *

I hummed happily to myself as I walked along the streets of Konoha. _Alone_. If I tried not to think about how close I was to the ground, I could almost convince myself I was an adult again! Oh the freedom~

After what felt like _hours_ , I had somehow convinced my parents to allow me to walk to Itachi's house by my lonesome. The freedom I felt was, well, _freeing_.

Since I had been attacked all of those months ago—was it really almost a year ago?—they never let me go _anywhere_ by myself. I was convinced they stood outside of the goddamn _bathroom._ Whenever I opened the door no one would be there, but the feeling was still haunted me. It made pooping extremely awkward.

What's even worse was sometimes they would hire genin to take me places—it was ridiculous. There were _tons_ of children my age that could run around the village to their hearts content during the day.

Papa and mom were very overprotective, even if there was a war going on. They stuck to me like glue, so I wasn't going to let this rare moment of beautiful independence slip away from me without milking it until it _mooed_.

The village was bustling and alive in a combination of smells and sounds. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the exotic scents of my home. They never got old. Frying meat from a food stand, sweet herbs from a tea shop and fresh breads from a bakery. It was addicting how good everything smelt.

As I was about to pass the bakery, I slowed my pace. _Hmm_ … Since this is my first time out alone, I should get a victory snack to celebrate. _Obviously_.

I walked in and stared at the assortments of baked breads, sweet rolls and desserts. Mouth instantaneously watering, I pulled out my pocket purse (it was gray with cute chibi kitties on it—my birthday gift from Obito) and counted my small amount of money.

Instantly I slumped.

There was only enough for three things, four if I settled for the cheaper snacks.

"Hello, little girl. What brings you here?"

 _What_ else _would I be in here for? Don't roll your eyes, self. You don't want the villagers hating you._ An idea came to me. A completely devious idea. _My_ kind of idea.

I smiled despite my inner monologue, "To celebrate!" I exclaimed, voice baby-like and high, putting on my biggest, brightest smile. The one I normally save for Papa when I wanted something.

The man, tall and muscular with graying hair and a mustache, bellowed out a laugh. "And what is it you're celebrating?"

I raised a fist in the air and pumped it, "Freedom, my good sir!"

"Oh?"

" _Mm_! My Papa let me walk to my best-est friend in the whole wide world's house _all_ _by_ _myself_." I crossed my arms and did my best to look proud. Which, how I felt, wasn't that hard.

Papa was an Unmovable Force when he _really_ wanted to be.

"Well that's reason to celebrate in my eyes. Tell me, what would you like? I'll even give you a little discount." He winked.

I mentally smirked, glad my little ruse worked. Now I could get _five_.

As I went back on my way, I allowed a moment to laugh evilly to myself.

 _Today the bakery; tomorrow **the world**._

The paper bag of goods I walked away from the establishment with was totally worth acting like a complete dolt. If this was how it would be every time I was able to walk alone, I might as well begin carrying around props to make myself seem even more unassuming.

Imagine all of the things I could get for free holding a giant plushy?

Up ahead I couldn't help but notice three kids glaring my way as they pushed themselves off a store wall. Man, those were some nasty looks on their faces. They spoke lowly to each other as they walked in my direction, eyes staring a hole through my little form. From this distance, they looked to be around eleven or twelve.

It made me hesitate for only a millisecond before continuing on my way. They didn't scare me one bit. In all honesty, nothing did. It made things boring at times. Sure, there were times I could feel true terror, like when I was attacked, but these punks were _nothing_ compared to that.

— ** _Bl_ o _od_** _—smile **s tr**_ **e t _ch_ _e d_** _—bl **a** nk e **y**_ **e** _s—_

I shook my head. That time had passed. I needed to focus on the _now._

These kids made me feel uncomfortable. As if there were unseen hands grasping painful, sharp claws into my shoulders and _pushing_ me down, down, _down_ —Ugh! So what if they were taller and (undoubtedly) stronger? Nothing would ruin this day for me, god dammit! Their malicious intent meant _nothing_ to me.

The chances of being murdered with shinobi jumping all around on their squirrely business was very slim. Even if the elder ninja looked to be going on their way single minded, I knew they were always alert to their surroundings. I lived with the damn Yellow Flash!

As if sensing the hostility, on-goers parted like the Red Sea. Sickeningly, some paused, eyes curious and hungry to know what was going on. _I_ didn't even know what was going on. A few had a glint in their eye, as if they wanted nothing more than to see me smeared across the dusty ground.

It disgusted me.

As I went to pass the children, the nearest boy, obviously an Uchiha with his black hair and eyes, bumped a sharp shoulder harshly into me, sending me to the ground.

During my fall, I made _extra_ sure to protect _The_ _Goods_. Half-priced sweets were hard to come by in this world, what with the prices of sugar being so high.

When Papa became Hokage, I'd have to convince him to find a place who dealt with flour to start trade with. Since it was such a combustible substance, most businesses refused to trade it over long distances without shinobi around to protect them—and ninja protection was costly.

"Watch where you're going, twerp." The boy hissed; a shit-eating grin on his otherwise cute face. Sigh. Leave it to the cute ones to be rotten on the inside.

I looked up to him in barely concealed distaste. The way he was— _literally_ —looking down on me made me want to gouge his pretty eyes out. They were like Itachi's, yet lacked the intelligence and _warmth_.

"You're the one that bumped into me, ya fungus." I shot back from my spot on the ground. What were these kids' _issues?_... _Other than King Douche being an Uchiha._

The other two, one a girl and another boy, circled around. Taking a deep breath, I slowly stood, head turning in an attempt to follow all of their movements.

 _Great. I'm not even in the academy yet and I am being bullied._

That thought gave me pause. _Wait-a-minute_. Did I _want_ to go to the academy? To become a ninja of the Leaf—willing to lay down my life in order to protect it? I mean, I always _assumed_ I would be a ninja, but didn't I have a choice?

I never held the village in high regards, after all. In both reality and whilst watching the anime. In the show, they treated Naruto— _my_ _future_ _baby brother_ —like complete trash. They made him feel unwanted. Like a monster.

He needed to be strong in order to gain their love and attention. Hell, some of the people in the place physically _hurt_ him.

 _An innocent child_. _(theyneedtodietheyneedtodie)._

On the other hand, my father was going to be the future fuckin' _Hokage_ ; no matter how brief. The village was a place he loved enough to _die_ _for_. Shouldn't that be enough to warrant my own devotion? To spark some sort of burning desire to defend the place my current body was born to?

It was definitely something to bookmark for a later date.

A force shoved me forward, electing a squawk of surprise from me— _embarrassing_. Lost in thought, I had forgotten about the bullying assholes. I really needed to work on my situational awareness…

They laughed as one as I stumbled to my hands and knees. The bag fell to the ground, caged carefully between my limbs.

Anger burned away the stinging pain in my scratched palms. _I got those at a discount!_ And for what reason? Because I had _been there_? Why was no one helping me? They were double my age— _someone should be_ saving _me_. _(killthemkillthem)._

The original offender spoke up voice nasally, "Pathetic. I don't see what _he_ sees in a wimp like _you_."

" _Yeah_. She's not even pretty."

"Pretty _ugly_ if you ask me. Just look at those weird marks on her face!"

Taking a deep breath, I stood again, straightened up and turning to the girl. I snuffed out the igniting match striking in my belly. Shame, anger—what was wrong with my whisker marks? I thought they were cute. Especially when I'd have a little brother with the same marks!

One hand held tight to my precious, the other found purchase on my hip. I flipped my hair away from my face. "If you think calling me ugly and a wimp will send me home crying, you got another thing coming, _girlfriend_."

The girl had brown eyes and black hair, similar to the second boy. Related, if I had to guess. There was no distinguishing who was older, but they _definitely_ had the same parents. My own eyes narrowed at the familiar crest on all three of their shirts.

Uchiha.

Around us, most of those who paused shuffled along on. Others outright watched. Again, why would I want to save a place that treated each other like this? Here I was, _a child_ , being bullied and they just stood there and _stared_. Like vultures waiting for the remains of a bunny torn apart by wolves.

"We don't care if you're crying or not, so long as you stay away from Itachi-sama." One of the siblings growled. It was hard to tell which voice came from whom. They both sounded like prepubescent little boys.

"I bet he only hangs around her because she's so stupid."

"You don't deserve to be around someone as _prestigious_ as Itachi-sama."

At the second mention of my besties name, my hackles raised. So, that was who the 'he' was. I was being bullied over being a clan heir's (best) friend. Perfect.

The thing, though, was _they_ _were_ _right_. I wasn't worthy of being the clan heir's friend. He was strong, noble and kind while I was a _child_ _killer_. A body snatcher. _(Ishouldn't **exist** )._

A sad smile raised on my lips. "I agree. I don't deserve his friendship." My words shocked the three stooges. It was true. Itachi was too nice, too pure— _but_ … My saddened expression morphed into a cocky smile that wouldn't reach my eyes. "He chose _me_ to stand beside him. Moreover, until he tells me different, that's where I will stay.

Now. _Get the hell out of my way_. You've made me late enough as is."

" _You-_ Grab her arms!"

They came onto me as a group. I tried getting away, pushing and kicking against their grabbing hands.

It was all in vain. They were bigger, stronger, _faster_. I tossed the bag to the side, hoping they wouldn't take too much notice of it and crush it in spite.

After a short scuffle, the siblings held my arms, one on each side, forcing me down to my knees.

"We'll teach you your place, clanless scum!" The black haired boy shouted with a reddened face.

The first hit was a kick to my stomach. It made me gag and shout out in pain, something I hadn't known I was capable of doing. Somehow, I kept down the vomit that tried forcing itself up.

They all laughed when the boy next landed a solid punched my face. If I were in my old body, I was sure my cheekbone would have fractured in a million bone-shards.

It was then I realized how much Itachi had been holding back our first meeting. He had made me bleed, but it was in retaliation, not malice. There was also the fact this boy was older, thus bigger. He hit _hard_. Stars spun in my eyes.

Yet I refused to cry, even with the tears already burning behind my eyes. I put all of my pain and hate and manifested it into the most fierce glare possible, pointed to King Douche. I wished it would light him on fire or poison him via osmosis.

I wished they would _drop dead_.

"Hey!" a high voice called out, making the bullies pause.

Three figures dropped from a nearby roof as one unit. As if he were an angel from the heavens, Obito took a threatening step forward, fist clenched—the oppressive rage came out of me like a fresh breath of air.

I could've sworn he had a halo.

"How about you pick on someone your own size!" The Uchiha D-Bag Squad (UDB Squad?) collectively flinched.

"Um," Rin spoke up, waving her hands as she normally did when trying to be annoying—I mean— _defuse_ _the_ _situation_ , "let's not resort to violence… Please let her go. We don't want any trouble-"

"Are you kidding!?" I barked, voice bordering on mocking, " _'let's not resort to violence'_ —There _already is_ violence! They were hitting me! Kick their asses!"

Only Kakashi spared a look my way, eyebrow cocked inquisitively. As if I needed _him_ judging me for using 'grown-up' words.

"We don't have to listen to you!" the male sibling scoffed.

"Yeah. You're just a weak girl playing dress up." The head-douche commented nastily.

I shrugged, kind of agreeing with the D-Squad.

What!? It wasn't like he was _wrong_. Rin wasn't anything special. The only thing she had going for her was her _slightly_ more advanced medical abilities and strong teammates. Other than that, she was an average fighter and her clones were sub-par.

How she passed the final academy test was something that astounded me.

The siblings let go of me, but not without shoving me to the ground one last time. My hands, again, scraped against the gravel, digging pebbles further into the softness of my palms.

" _Seriously!?_ "

"That's it!" _Yes_. _Avenge me, Obito-nii-chan!_ "You say sorry to Rin-chan right now!" The elder Uchiha yelled, voice echoing against the surrounding walls.

I slapped my forehead.

"Or _what_?" the three of them said as one.

Obito crossed his arms and smirked. "Or I'll tell _all_ of your parents what you were doing. Do ya think they'll be happy to hear you were picking on a _toddler?_ "

Oh. Well. It was nice to know he hadn't forgotten about it. He was just _ignoring the original issue!_

And that was how the next few minutes were spent, with the UDB Squad apologizing to Rin and groveling at her feet. They even went as far as to _bow_ to the girl.

I stood off to the side with Kakashi, not so silently brewing in anger. "What the hell? I was the one bullied. They should be kissing _my_ feet." As I spoke, my hands burned painfully, my stomach felt two minutes from exploding from my mouth like a geyser, and my cheek throbbed. There would definitely be a lot of bruising.

By this time tomorrow, I'd look like an abused apple.

 _Ugh. I hate preteens_.

The silver-haired ninja let out a sigh, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "He's a short-sighted idiot. What else would you expect?" he glanced down at me with understanding that lasted for a moment before it turned concerned (as concerned as Kakashi could look, at least). "You're hurt."

I gave him a nasty look. " _Wow_ , aren't you just the _most_ _observant_ doofus on your team. Heal me _now_ or I'll tell my mommy that _you_ _did_ _it_."

Kakashi noticeably paled. "Hey Rin? Akira has some scrapes and bruises you should check out." His voice came out higher than normal and cracked, making him clear his throat at the end of his plea. _Ah, the beauty of having a terrifying mother._

As soon as the words were stated, said girl gasped and quickly made her way to me, worry in her doe brown eyes.

 _Wait is that a_ —I didn't see her walk up to me, my mind was much too interested with how _different_ Kakashi looked blushing. It was like a car crash, man _. I couldn't look away_. It was such an innocent thing, really. The way dilated blood vessels on someone's face reacting to excess adrenaline being pumped through them.

"Let me see."

I extended my hands blindly. Facial vessels were especially sensitive, which was why a persons entire body doesn't turn red (imagine how funny that would look). When antiseptic was placed on the cuts I cringed.

The pain took me out of whatever trance I had been in, making me turn a glare to the dead-weight of team eight. Hm. That rhymed. Maybe I would start calling her DW? _Heh_ …

"Ow, ow ow, OWWW." I wined, electing a stern glance from the medic.

Honestly, it didn't hurt _that_ bad—I've felt worse. Just stung a bit. But in my younger mind, she took the spotlight of Obito's attention away from me, so it was well deserved.

If it wasn't obvious as of yet, I didn't much care for the girl. The quicker she died, the happier I would be. **_That means Obito would have to be taken away sooner_**. I pushed that thought aside violently. **_To the box._**

"I'll heal you fully later. We need to get you to Itachi-kun's house and debrief Minato-sensei so we can go on our next mission." She said, finishing wrapping up the bandages on my hands.

Should have known Papa wouldn't let me do something on my own. I sneered, nodding my head and testing how much I could move my hands. A bit stiff but not too bad. The bandages were actually rather soft.

 _Of course they wouldn't trust me enough to go on my own_.

.

.

.

"What happened to you?" Were Itachi's blurted first words to me when he answered the door.

I was too busy staring a hole into the back of a certain silver-haired ass-wipes head. It wasn't a mean stare, just curious.

" _Hello_ _to you too, 'Tachi_. I'm doing fine, how about you?" I teased lightly, trying to get his attention off my battle wounds (as if being bullied was a battle. It was totally one sided and shitty; no matter how optimistically I looked at it).

Man, what was up with me earlier, looking at someone like _Bakashi_ so intently? Sure, it was the first time I had seen him blush, but was it really _that_ big of a deal? The answer?

 _Fuck nah_.

So what if it was akin to seeing a damn unicorn? A becoming change to his usual stoic, bored expressions. But what if he had seen me gaping at him like some _idiot_?

With a shake of my head, I turned to regard Itachi fully. Carefully. As I would a ticking time bomb.

He stared at me blankly in the way he _knew_ would make me uncomfortable. All vacant and _weird_. He looked so much like one of those porcelain dolls my old mother use to collect. I shivered. _Creepy_.

They always gave me a distinct _Annabelle_ vibe. Enough to keep me awake most nights, especially after watching the move.

My will to keep my lips sealed crumbled under his intense gaze. " _Fine._ Some Uchiha brats pushed me around a bit. It's no big deal. Really." _Just drop it,_ I pleaded silently.

Embarrassment flooded my face red while I kicked at the ground lamely, knocking a small rock with the tip of my sandal. (I wondered absently if I looked anything like Kakashi had). Admitting to being picked on was so _lame_. I should have been able to fight back! Kick that black haired jerk on his ass and _laugh_. My fists clenched.

"They hurt you. Why?" It was more of an order than a question.

I scoffed, "Because I'm your friend or whatever. Apparently, being from a dead clan and befriending a clan heir isn't looked upon in the greatest light. It's fine, though. Just a little bruised and some scrapes—nothing serious."

Although I was in the world of an anime, I was in one where the universe was _completely_ _unfair_. Here, just because someone picked on me didn't mean I could somehow turn into my mother and kick their asses. I was basically a baby at this point. I felt like Cas with no powers.

Don't get me wrong, I 'trained' with Itachi, hell I even _excelled_ in a couple areas, but those kids were just too big and experienced. This body was strong, as were the others of this world, yet not enough to fight someone that much bigger than me. I was just too _tiny_. Too untrained in fighting a larger target.

Ever see a weak five-year-old kick a group of trained twelve year olds asses? Nope.

At an even earlier age, Itachi had already _killed_. Though I was older physically (and mentally, in ways), he was just too advanced. Compared to everyone around me, I was the odd one out. Practically civilian.

What if he realized this and became ashamed of our friendship? Did he think I was weak? Or, even worse, _did he think he was too good for me?_ That thought alone sent a shock of fear zipping through me.

He was my _only_ friend. If I didn't have him, I would be **_alone_**.

I looked up, anxious when moments passed with him saying nothing—immediately I took a faltering step back. Itachi's normally serene face was twisted in what I could only discern as complete fury. In his deep onyx eyes laid the promise of swift, righteous, _pain_.

" ** _Who?_** " his voice was deeper than what was normal for him. A strange feeling slithered its way up my chest and settled.

Mentally, I stumbled.

Had any of them mentioned their names? I shook my head, "They never said. Just a group made up of some black haired Ki- er, douche and two siblings; one boy and one girl. Both had brown hair."

After a slight nod, the expression of anger evaporated, making my apprehensive spine loosen a bit. I scratched the back of my head. "Geeze, 'Tachi. Have you been tested for being bi-polar?"

"No." was his simple answer. He pointed to the slightly crumpled bag held in my hands. "What is that?"

A sly smile spread over my face as the tense moment fully evaporated. I hadn't even noticed when team 8 ran off to debrief, but they were nowhere to be seen. I opened the bad and stuck my hand in, pulling out and showing off five sticks of dango like a magician pulling a bunny out of his hat. "A feast!"

Itachi's returning small smile and fond expression made any pain I had from getting my ass thoroughly kicked disappear like magic.

* * *

Weeks passed when mom and Papa sat me down at the dining table.

It was a normal day, much like all of the others. Being a child sucked that way. Nothing exciting ever really happened. Unless I went over Itachi's or spent time with team Papa, my days were monotonous. The second I tried to avoid. Partially because I wanted to pop out Rin's doe brown eyes—which was normal. The other reason was, you guessed it, _Bakashi_.

Ever since 'that day' I had actively began _staring_ at him. Like some crazy stalker. It had started as distracted glances and blown up into outright fixing my eyeballs on him.

Just thinking of how pathetic I was being made me want to cringe into another world. If anyone else noticed, they were nice enough to leave it be. For now.

 _Get your head together!_ I snapped back into myself with a start (that was becoming a normal occurrence). Childish crushes could wait until later.

Both parental's matching serious expressions were on me. Every now and then, their eyes shifted to each other, then back. Neither looked upset, per-say, so I wasn't in court to plea my case. Yet, they wouldn't speak up. It was getting increasingly annoying.

As if sensing my impatience, Papa broke the tense silence, slowly, cautiously… _Suspiciously_. "You're five years old now."

I raised my eyebrows. Not what I was expecting. "Yep. I'm well aware." The p popped.

He backtracked, "I- I mean—You are five years old now—and very um… _Mature_ for your age…" dad trailed off, diverting his eyes to the floor as if it would either swallow him whole or speak for him. Couldn't tell which.

Regardless, my eyebrows raised higher. At this rate, the blonde bundle of hairs would reach the gods. I was _mature?_ What was this? What direction was he trying to bring this conversation?

I swear on all that is holy—If I heard the word 'vagina' or 'penis' I was fuckin' _out_.

Out of the room, out of this village, _out_ _of_ _this_ _life_.

The last thing I wanted was my achingly awkward Papa and blushing mom explaining the concept of _sex_ to me. I'd die of second-hand embarrassment! My face would never revert to its original coloring, forever stained like a firetruck.

 _Ah, blushing_ — ** _No, stop._**

"What your father is trying to say," Mom swooped in helpfully, placing a hand on Papa's slumped shoulders, "—is that you are becoming more and more independent. We think it is about time to stop… well, _babying_ you. You have proved to us that you are more than able to go off on your own. So…"

"We are going on a two day mission!" Papa exclaimed suddenly with an intense, wild look in his sky blue eyes. The abrupt disruption made me jump.

 _T-the fuck?_ _God, these people were so damn_ weird _…_ _Wait_. "You're going to let your five year old fend for herself for two days?" I asked with no infliction in my tone.

Mom's cheeks flushed ( _I'm not thinking about it, I swear)._ "Um, _no_."

I let out a sigh of relief. " _Thank goodness_." For a moment there, I thought they were going to make a complete 180 and become terrible parents. Glad my fears weren't founded.

Papa spoke up next, this time more poised. "Mikoto-san has agreed to let you stay at their house while we are gone—"

I interrupted, hand slamming on the table. " _WOO, PARTY!"_ My body, overcome with resonating excitement, shook. To expel some of the energy, I began dancing in my chair. I swear I saw stars and flowers spinning around my head from the corner of my eyes.

This would be my very first sleep over _ever_. And, even better, it is with _Itachi_. Two whole days with one of my favorite pretty-boys? It was going to be so much fun! I wanted to yodel to the sky.

" _NO!"_ The sky crashed around me, _"_ We expect you to be on your _best_ behavior. When Mikoto-san or Fugaku-san tell you to do something, you _do it._ Without any sass." Mom added in the last part hastily.

I waved my hand flippantly, "Listen to Gaku-sama and no sass, gottcha. Hear ya loud and clear."

Mom sent me a look of disappointment. "I'm being serious, Akira. The Uchiha have been very generous allowing you stay so long."

I paused mid victory dance and give her and Papa a reassuring smile. "I'll behave myself, I swear. I'm just _really_ excited to have a slumber party with Itachi, _ya'know_."

They smiled back. Papa walked over to me and collected me in his arms bawling about how I was growing up too fast and how he would have to bat away boys with kunai.

Internally I thought of all the ways I could make _Gaku-sama_ uncomfortable… Yes…this would be _great._

000

I walked up to the Uchiha household with extra pep to my step. My sharp movements caused the dangle kitty chain decorations on my backpack to click together. Mom, as usual, was fretting behind me.

"Did you remember your toothbrush?"

"For the hundredth time, _yes_." I was exhausted with the ongoing conversation. Mom and Papa had made _quite_ the spectacle this morning. At first, it had been adorable. Nice. Not many kids had the privilege of having even one parent care enough to cause such a scene.

As a matter of fact, I had come to find out a lot, if not _most,_ children in the village resided in the orphanage. It made since, I guessed. We lived in a village where ninja, while the minority, had kids at earlier ages. Add that to the hundreds dying from war-times and well… _Too_ _many_ people were dying. It just so happened that the dead left children.

All of that said; mom was coming off as completely overbearing. It made my inner adult want to pull her hair out and scream. The only thing that stopped me was the fact I _wasn't_ an adult anymore and that type of behavior would get me into some _serious_ trouble. Hell hath no fury like a mom sassed. Think not leaving the house for _months_ with no toys. I was a kid now and would just have to _deal_ with it.

My footsteps hurried as we walked around the last corner to make it to the Uchiha's. "Were almost there, _come on!_ "

Mom chuckled as I turned to grab her hand and pull her along behind me.

…

* * *

 **END**

* * *

 **A/N: Welp. Originally I was going to just brush over Akira's childhood, hitting only at the main points buuuuut decided it would be best for the story to actually _explain_ it. Which means I've had to add to my already lengthy intro to the character by showing her interactions with other characters, blah blah blah. So there are a few more scenes before we get into the _good (painful)_ stuff. AND bc I'm extra lazy, there is only a poem instead of song.**

 **Which do you guys like more? The song lyrics through the chapter, or poem/lyrics at the beginning only?**

 **As always, please review (helps me get these out faster) to feed my lil ego, fav to make me feel better and follow to get emails when I update this fic!**

 **Have a lovely weekend. -3-**


	4. Chapter 4: Jumbled

**Edited: 8/18/2018** (Authors Note at the end)

* * *

 **"Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine.**

 **The landmine is me.**

 **After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together."**

 **~Ray Bradbury**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Jumbled**

I sat cross-legged on the perfectly waxed floor of the Uchiha's living room, stacking up blocks I had packed with me for my stay. Higher and higher they went, leaning dangerously to one side. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of papers rustling from the scrolls Fugaku were going through as he sat on the couch.

Said man was reading some important looking stuff, light glinting off the red irises of his activated sharingan. They seemed to glow, even with the fluorescent glow of bulbs in the house. Whether it was because it unveiled some hidden message in the parchment or allowed him to read faster, I didn't know.

Not many outside of the clan knew much about the sharingan—or its abilities—as they held it close amongst themselves.

All I knew was what I had scrounged up from a show I had (long ago) watched. I could understand the _general_ _idea_ of the eyes. Like the fact they were so powerful that they could control a fucking nine-tailed beast. There was also the fact they could see through complex genjutsu, as well as cast them.

Personally I wished I was born with those damn eyes. Memorize something after one glance? Fuck yeah, sign me up. If there was _anything_ I wished to preserve, it would be the knowledge I had of this world. Don't get me wrong—It wasn't that the memories were _dissipating_ or some shit like that.

Waking up in the Naruto-verse had me repeating the story to myself; clinging onto those memories until the most important parts were no less than _branded_ into my mind.

That wasn't to say I wouldn't forget things. There was a lot of shit to remember and I, sadly, lacked a photogenic memory. I was a normal human with normal mental capabilities and recollection. Moreover, the thing about that type of recollection, was that real life was _very_ different than a concept.

For example, an astronaut could watch endless videos, read countless amounts of books on what space is like—but nothing could _truly_ compare to sitting in a rocket ship and blasting off into nothingness.

My reality had shifted completely when I ended up in this body. Corny as it was, my experience was nothing like the many fanfics I read in another world. I was originally here as my old self. Unable to physically touch or communicate with the world around me. My only friend was a toddler for fucks sake.

My experience in that state was _one_ _dimensional_. Most of my senses were _gone_. As an apparition, I didn't feel beyond what occurred whenever a living organism walked through me. I couldn't taste, I couldn't _smell_.

Living as a being that could only see and hear… It was _maddening_.

There were times I was positive I fell into a trench of lunacy I would never be able to crawl my way out of.

Maybe I _was_ mad.

It would explain my willingness to accept _any_ excuse my brain came up with on my situation.

' **I was meant to be in this body?'** _Sure_.

' **Akira was somewhere inside of this body, watching in a dark corner of our shared mind?'** _Sounds great!_

The truth was, I had an endless list of questions and not a single god damned answer. I was coping the best I could after 5 years. So what if I shoved down the bad memories with other shit memories and _moved on?_ I was allowed to be happy! I _deserved_ this second chance.

I fucking bypassed _death._ ** _I am on the same level as a God!_**

… _Ahem…_

What was I originally thinking about… _(*backtracks a few paragraphs*)_

Ah, yes. The _sharingan_.

It wasn't my first time being witness to the spiraling black tumoe inside of luminous red irises during my time here. Don't misunderstand; it was only a few times in passing—and happened _rarely_.

And as a person who easily becomes… _infatuated_ (obsessed) with new concepts, I couldn't help but become captivated by them when given the opportunity graced itself with its presence.

To a girl who grew up in a world with natural coloring's and shitty eyesight, they just _stood_ _out_. (don't even get me started on how much of a mind-fuck it was to know people with _naturally_ _growing_ pink hair was a thing in this world).

In a terribly tragic way, they were… _beautiful._

During most of the anime, we only saw them in the use of people with evil intentions ( _Madara, Danzo, ext._ ) or tragic consequences ( _Kakashi_ ). The villagers feared the Uchiha because of their 'evil eyes' and shitty attitudes.

So to see Fugaku, the fearsome clan head, use his powerful kekki genkai to do something as rudimentary as _reading_ … It painted a cute picture. A _lighter_ picture.

To think many would associate something I saw as magnificent as something to fear…? It made me want to hug every Uchiha I passed.

Except the D-Bag Squad.

Fuck them.

Fugaku himself was a generic example of his clan. His face was always stuck in an imitation of severity and void of emotion. No matter what I threw at him, he took it in stride, never showing much of an emotional response. Replying only with cold facts and narrowed, suspicious eyes.

The only time I had gotten a _smidgen_ of a reaction from was when I began calling him _Gaku_ - _sama_.

Even then, it was only a minuscule widening of eyes.

I wanted to prove to myself that this shell of a character had, I don't know, _some_ sort of a redeeming quality. Something that would make him seem more like a human and not the evil leader of a coup that almost sent the village into _chaos_. The very coup that pushed Itachi to do the unimaginable.

Trying to break past all of those carefully crafted walls the Uchiha kept up unfailingly was like running on a treadmill in a hallway and expecting to reach the other end.

My worst fear was that I would find _nothing_. Just a careless, evil, man driven by the need for power.

Sneering, I punched the tower I had carefully constructed. Itachi was busy helping his mother with cleaning up dinner (I tried but she shooed me away), so I had little else to do than to (help) fuck with Fugaku.

"Gaku-sama?"

Red eyes snapped up (down?) to meet my own. There was a lengthy pause before… "Hn?"

I held back the urge to roll my eyes out of my sockets. _Why are you so cliché?_ Mentally swatting away my thoughts, I did my best to look like the curious little five-year-old cutie-pie I was. The fact he watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to attack him like a rabid gremlin was hilarious.

I stood on wobbly legs and waddled my way to his place on the couch. I ignored the way he tensed when I stopped in front of his crossed legs, stubby arms reaching up to him.

We were motionless, like statues, for a long moment (minutes, really, but who is counting?). I was _determined_ this time to get my way.

Fugaku let out a breath of annoyance and placed his documents on the cushion next to him. With annoyance seeping through his every pore, the Uchiha clan head effortlessly picked me up and sat me on his leg.

 _What an interesting development…_

Pretending to be completely oblivious to the awkwardness radiating from the grown man, I leaned my head against his chest and ran my fingers through his silky hair. It wasn't as soft as Itachi's, but it would do.

This need to be coddled was completely new for me. As Jemma I had never enjoyed sitting close to others, let alone snuggle up to a person. It made the first time Kushina forced me to cuddle with her during naptime both shocking and completely _terrifying_.

Since I was, by all means, a _child_ again, the feeling of someone holding me—arms surrounding my smaller form like a protective barrier of warmth and _love_ —was downright delightful.

It became addicting.

After that fateful day, I began _craving_ physical closeness. Actively seeking it out in those around me (not Rin or Bakashi—the risk uselessness and depression rubbing off on me was too high) when I felt too many toddler emotions. Or, like now, if I just felt like it.

Being held by an adult (or Itachi and Obito) was reassuring. Soothing in a way I had never found it previously. It consoled me better than that shit of a therapist _ever_ could.

What began as a balm to get through those especially rough days became habitual. I took advantage of my new age and smaller frame wholly. So what if this time it was to get reactions out of someone with a stick up their butt?

The reassuring, steady beat of Fugaku's heart was almost enough to lull me to sleep. My eyes became heavy without my consent, breaths coming out more evenly. The hand running through the older Uchiha's hair stopped and fell to the collar of his shirt, grasping the fabric between tiny fingers.

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I'd fuck with him later. Naptime was calling.

* * *

Weeks passed.

Mom and I walked back home from the Uchiha household after having a girls day with Mikoto. It was a nice visit, as all were.

The nights were still cold; winters clutch not fully releasing us to spring. Thus then need to wear my jacket lingered. Which sucked. It wasn't comfortable anymore. Instead, the fabric felt stuffy and constricting.

Maybe that was just my recent thoughts as of late, but I was _tired_.

Coming into this world, I had never thought much on what I would actually _do_ —in the village, that is. After all, when I had first come here, I was unable to affect anything.

The thought of creating a new life that wasn't technically my own was as foreign as the chakra running through me.

Now, I had a physical body that was able to _touch_ and _interact_ with things and people around me. And, against my better judgement, I had unwittingly grown achingly attached to those around me (sans Rin—I don't think I'd _ever_ like her. That time with the D-Bag Squad was the last straw).

So the big elephant in my mind was; **_what do I want to do?_**

Dabble in baking like in my old life? Not likely considering baking ingredients, as I had previously gone over, were rather hard to come by.

Enjoy the civ life and allow things to just _happen_? That would be the easier route. The _safest_ route. I could possibly _grow_ _old._ Maybe even have family of my own to take care of and find love.

I had to admit, it was a nice thought.

 _A dangerous thought._

Had I been born in another family— ** _not reborn_** —that could have actually been a possibility.

The thing about fate, though, was that _you_ _never got what you want_. You scarcely even got what you _need_.

Instead of comfort, you are thrown into a strange, unfamiliar terrain and _pushed_. Kicked. Throttled. Happiness didn't just _hand_ _itself_ _over on a silver platter_. It was achieved through hard work and, most of all, _pain_.

I had enough pain in my (now) small body to fuel the next few generations.

In this world, there were no shortcuts. Shit, even prodigies had to, at the bare minimum, put in _some_ effort. Being around Itachi introduced me to that new thought.

Everyone, no matter what, had to work. That led me to a rather easy decision.

I would fight. I would become strong, just like Akira had wanted to.

 **I** **would** **survive**.

Already I had been learning how to fight with Itachi. Might as well see how I took to training, to take it a bit more seriously. Therefore, I (literally) begged my parents to let me start training. At one point, I had even gone to my knees.

They seemed happy and looked proud, but there was a glint of sadness residing in their eyes. It happened only when they thought I wasn't looking. Beginning with the smallest of frowns tugging at the corners of their mouths and ending with a long, empty stare into space.

Generally, I felt as if reality was slowly pressing down on me. _( **Iamsufocating** )_

As I toed off my shoes at the entrance, I was happy to see Papa home. Adorned in mom's apron with a spatula in hand, Papa turned to us with a smile like sunshine.

The weight on my shoulders felt heavier.

"There are my two favorite girls! I wasn't sure if you would be eating at the Uchiha's, but I whipped something together anyway."

Mom smiled and leapt at him in a binding hug. "We ate there but I'm still _starving_. Thank you." She kissed his cheek and walked to the cupboard to begin the task of setting the table, leaving behind a blood-red, hazy-eyed Papa.

Man, they were so perfectly in love it was almost sickening. Always sure to show it in any way they could, be it a new potted plant or joint hands.

I wondered minutely if _I_ would ever find something like that here. And just like that, I opened up my own little mental can of worms.

Was I _allowed_ to fall in love?

My existence alone was nothing short of an abomination. Just the extra amount of air I breathed could be setting some unknown factor into motion, and I would be blind to it up until the point it slit my throat at night.

So who was to say the person _I_ fall in love with, was meant for _someone else?_ If that happened, could I be selfless enough to let them go? To allow the universe to fix itself while I forced myself to stay away?

The answer came to my mind in an immediate, possessive growl:

 ** _No_** **.**

I had always been selfish. Ultimately, even if I was technically a new person, I didn't plan to try and change who I was. Why should I? Just because I found myself in an impossible situation didn't mean I had to alter myself.

If I tried changing to fit in around a bunch of Ninja, it would just come off as a bunch of lies. I couldn't, in good conscious, build a new life—one I had _stolen_ —on a throne of lies. I didn't want that, when here, even my parents weren't _my_ parents. They were my _bodies_ parents. After many months of depression, I had long thrown out thoughts of pretending to strictly be Akira.

In a way, I was lucky. Akira, being a toddler, hadn't had the time needed to become her own person. Children were like sponges in their first years of life. It wasn't until later in their development that they developed a sense of 'self', so most of her personality was crafted after me. It made being her easier, but not perfectly so.

I wasn't _really_ a child, after all.

Yet, for all I knew, I was _meant_ to be here, and Akira was just getting my reincarnated body ready for a mind too overwhelming for a newborn? Who was to say _that_ wasn't how reincarnation worked?

I shook my head. These thoughts _really_ needed to stop. This couldn't be healthy! At this rate, I would never be able to heal and move the fuck on!

 ** _I am Akira. I belong here._**

It was about time I began believing those words instead of emptily saying them to myself.

I sat down at the table with a thump, heavy in mind and body. Instead of allowing myself the time to get lost in itself _AGAIN,_ I busied myself with watching as mom and Papa bantered back and forth.

Ignoring my inner saltiness, I took notice of how both were calm around each other in a comforting way. With the war going on, they cherished each and every moment they were able to spend together.

"Papa, mom." The two turned to me with grinning faces. "I… I want to be a ninja." Their smiles dimmed. _Yeah, same_.

"But Akira… After this war ends, you won't _need_ to become a ninja." Papa stated slowly, eyes shifting. I was briefly shocked at the openness of his proclamation. Not many would deter their child's decision to 'protect the village'. Especially someone who was going to become Hokage.

Was that what they honestly thought, though? That just because the current war would end, that others wouldn't happen in the future? That everything would be fine and peaceful for the rest of my life? That as long as they taught me the bare bones of protecting myself, I would be fine? What a terribly naïve way to think.

It wasn't as if I really _wanted_ to become a ninja! Sure, they were cool and could do incredible things, but… They were nothing more than paid killers.

This world was bizarre with how desensitized its population was to hired murderers. To them, it was normal. But me, a girl who grew up in a place where death only happened to the unfortunate and the murderers were considered _evil?_

It clashed with my previous shaky belief system of good, evil and justice.

Here, there was no clear-cut good or bad (except maybe Madara?). Everyone was just trying to _survive_. And sometimes, in order to do that, you had to do very bad things. Like take someone's life before they took yours.

No. In this world, I refused to be some sitting duck. If it came down to my life and someone else's… _I can't believe I'm even thinking this but_ … _I would rather kill than plucked_.

I shook my head, readying myself for my usual mixture of truth and lies. "That isn't the reason I want to become a ninja. I want to be one so I am strong enough to protect you or any other siblings I will have. What kind of big sister would I be if I couldn't shield him from bad stuff?"

Papa gave me a stern look, his blue eyes steeling, which took me by surprise. I was a daddy's girl through-and-through. Anything I wanted, he made happen.

 _Guess even he has limits._

"You would be an _alive_ sister." He grit out between clenched teeth, similarly tightened knuckles resting lightly on the table.

Ow. That hurt.

Trying my best to brush off the statement, I stood up on my seat and slammed my small hands on the table. Obnoxious as it was, it got their attention. "Is it because I'm a girl? You think I'm too _weak_ to survive as a shinobi?"

"Where is all of this coming from?" Mom shouted out with hands on her hips. Her violet eyes narrowed at my feet in the chair, her hair in the beginnings of movement. "You sit down right now before I _give_ you a reason to yell, _ya'know!_ "

Where was it coming from? Self-preservation. I wanted to make sure I was able to protect myself. Civilians in Naruto were considered no more than babies. They died like cattle and weren't able to put up any type of fight. Civ's died with their heads in the clouds and I _refused_ to be one of them.

My mind shifted to the thought of how the two people before me, my parents in this world, and how they would die in just a few short years. How I would be _left._ _Truly_ _alone_ in a big, scary world that wanted nothing more than to chew me up and spit me out as a blind solider.

Hiding amongst sheep wouldn't keep me alive. It would do nothing more than draw the wolves closer.

No. I was willing to sacrifice whatever was left of my humanity to make sure _I_ was the wolf.

But could I tell them that? Hell to the no. I needed a different approach. I'd have to pull some heartstrings in order to get my way.

I sat down with slow, measured movements. "The only way I could ever be truly happy and feel _safe_ is to become strong and brave. Like you guys. Being a civilian won't help me with that. I want—no, I _need_ —to be able to protect my home." Settling more into my seat, I placed my chin on the table.

The silence was deafening, but I refused to look up. It would defeat the purpose. I needed to look serious. Be the mature daughter they thought I was becoming.

"…Is this really what you want?" the words were mumbled from mom.

 _Gottcha_.

My eyes closed. I tried to keep the smirk from my lips but it was so hard that I instead made it seem more serene. To make it look as if there were no doubt in my mind that being a ninja was _everything_ to me.

In a way, it was true.

"I want to protect the village and those who I hold dear." I opened my eyes, meeting theirs with renewed determination, "I want to make you proud."

The rest of the night was spent in hugs and celebration. Turned out, Papa just wanted to be _positive_ I wasn't trying to become a ninja for the 'wrong reasons'. Typical ninja shit, I thought. They wanted me to become a ninja with the Will of Fire already instilled in me. Part of me was furious that they had lead me on.

Mom was all smiles again, telling me how we would go look for proper equipment over the weekend. This included my own kunai, bandages and training clothes.

What I had left unsaid hung in my mind like spider-webs, allowing it to haunt my already terrible nightmares.

 _Not that you'll be alive to see it_.

* * *

 **END**

* * *

 **Holy shit this is a terribly written chapter. Just wasn't feeling it tbh.**

 **I hate long author notes but... Meh. There are some things I need to clear up. And I love communicating with my readers (the whole, like, 4 of you).**

 **Nivellia Neil:** **No Naruto baby makin' mission this time! Still a bit too soon for that to happen :c**

 ** _:_** **No need to cringe or hurl at the Kakashi stuff. She's a little girl, of course shes going to have a schoolgirl crush. The fact it's someone she can hardly stand makes me chuckle a bit. buuuuuuut I've always had the pairings decided for this story ;)**

 **WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY next STATEMENT, WOO.**

 **Kira is NOT going to be a one-romantic-interest character. Those never seem to make sense to me. Normal people go through a ton of disappointments before they settle down with their boo. So, yes, I have her romantic partners chosen (only 2 [3?] are real characters) and the end pair is already decided.**

 **Next thing I would like to make a statement about is that this story IS rated M for a reason. It's going to get dark pretty fast after the next maybe two chapters? There will be mentions of underage sex, (** technically? **) prostitution, old geezer taking advantage of a situation, gore, depression, mental instability and molestation. Death stuff will be descriptive, tho *shrug***

 **Follow to get notified when I update and PLEASE review. If you do, I'll add in my fav idea of yours into this story.**

 **Next chapter will be soon.**


	5. Chapter 5: A Turning Point

**Edited: 8/18/2018**

 **IMPORTNT AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END.**

 **Deep into that darkness peering,**

 **long I stood there,**

 **wondering,**

 **fearing,**

 **doubting,**

 **dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.**

 **~Edgar Allan Poe**

 **Chapter 5: A Turning Point.**

The sun shone brightly on Konoha one particularly warm summer afternoon. It had been almost a year since 'the awakening' and my new life slipped seamlessly into something resembling a schedule.

When Itachi wasn't training with his father we were allowed to spend time together: which wasn't _that_ often. Considering his father was a damn slave driver, my poor friend was stuck getting the shit beat out of him. I took what I could get.

With most of my time spent with the heir, I found that I genuinely enjoyed his presence in my new life. He was a great listener and, surprisingly, an even better friend. Sure, in the anime they showed his potential to be a good friend as was shown with Shark-Guy (what was his name again?) but that ended in betrayal, so it doesn't count. I couldn't even _try_ to imagine Tachi ever betraying me.

Try to kill me? Sure—He was most likely going to kill his entire clan no matter _what_ I tried to do to help. So his and my eventual clash was bound to happen.

Outright take the trust I've put in him and throw it back in my face? Not even close.

When given the opportunity, Itachi had shown extreme amounts of loyalty and protectiveness that bordered on possessive toward me. It was cute, really. Especially since he was younger than I was.

At first, I found myself doubting if he even felt remotely the same as I did toward him, but when I found out the same three Uchiha that made up the D-bag squad, the ones who had bullied me, were put into the hospital with career destroying injuries. It was terrifying, if I were being completely honest with myself (which I never was).

Any doubt I had accumulated vanished. How could I not put all of my trust into him after him outright choosing my feelings over that of his fellow clan?

Somehow, I'd been given the biggest blessing in this world in the shape of a black hair, black-eyed pretty boy who looked at me as if I were something he _cherished_.

In turn, I cherish the times we were able to spend together, acting like children.

In such a short span, Itachi had successfully wiggled himself into my tiny heart-space and refused to budge. Not that I would allow him to in the first place.

I loved fiercely and unflinchingly. He could slit my throat and I would give him a thumbs up on his clean cut.

Even when we got into arguments, I knew we would be fine at the end of the day. Or week, depending on how bad it became. The 'fights' we had were mostly me screaming profanities and him calmly stating things and telling me to watch my language.

There were a few times I managed to get under his skin and make him yell back, which always ended in me claiming how I _totally_ won, no matter how sound his logic was in said screaming match. Any way I could get him to act more like a human instead of a stuffy Uchiha was always considered a win.

Things unrelated to my social life, mom eventually caved in and began teaching me a few things about fuinjutsu—also known as sealing techniques. Obviously, she started with the basics. Uneven on even was _bad, blah, blah, blah._ You've probably read it or heard it a million times before.

Most of the 'training' she made me do was practice writing in strange positions with both of my hands, but that was about it. Everything else was writing practice in my eyes. And I needed it.

Having smaller hands and using a brush was a fight in itself.

Papa himself began teaching me fighting stances and how to properly throw kunai and shuriken. He'd also tossed me a wooden stick in the shape of a sword and insisted I find a way to take him down. For weeks I hadn't been able to even touch him. It was easy to become frustrated.

After millions of attempts, he finally taught me how to use my small stature to my advantage and gave me actual stances to learn for the art. Since him and I were prone to play Save the Princess, something my body _remembered;_ the sword easily became my favorite.

On my own time I ran. I ran so much that walking at times felt weird and slow. Once, I asked papa if I could get weights so I could move even _faster,_ but he shot down the idea. He didn't think I should begin such intense training until I was a little older and able to handle the strain.

I, of course, agreed.

…To his face.

When I ran out on my own, I would run in my favorite spot—a long stream secluded by a huge cliff-side—I'd carry the biggest rock I could handle and run back and forth.

It was therapeutic. There it was always quiet, sans the cawing of crows and the sound of running water. A place where I didn't have to put up a wall between my true self and the people around me that I loved. It was also a more healthy way of coping that laying in bed or talking to my reflection.

Many days were spent working myself into a sweaty mess, leaving myself deliciously spent and empty of my most hidden thoughts.

I shifted my eyes between the three ninja sitting at the coffee table, face impassive and devoid of emotion. Across from me, Obito wiggled uncomfortably in his seat, sweating. We were waiting for him to make a decision.

Fold, call or make a new bet.

Rin—out three hands ago—played as dealer.

It was a rather chilly out today, it being early September. Too cold for me to even consider going outside, especially when Mom and Papa were out on some mission for the day and hired ( _read: forced_ ) team Minato to babysit me. And since Itachi was out doing something with Fugaku outside of the village, I really had nothing better to do.

I missed him. He was going to be gone for an entire month. That's like, a _year_ to someone my age! My only company as of now were the three stooges sitting around the table with me, and my parents… when all of them had the time.

There were a few instances when I was left at home during the day by my lonesome. With nothing to do, I would think—then train to get my mind off thinking and busy myself.

It was a terrible time. Sometimes I contemplated putting my head through a wall from the boredom and darkness that surrounded me.

I was going stir-crazy like some sort of stressed out Sim. If only there were some higher power controlling me that I could yell and shake my fist toward.

Obito slammed his hand on the table with a determined look on his face, making me jump in my seat. "ALL IN!"

 _…Ooo bby, nooo_. I sent him a pitying look, doing my best not to peek at my own cards. There was no way I was going to lose to a bunch of _children_. I had years of past-life experience behind my belt to be that pathetic. No, I couldn't hit the bullseye, but I sure as hell knew my way around a deck of cards. Not that _they_ would know that.

I fought of the urge to laugh.

The dark haired boy pushed his meager amount of chips into the center, glancing at our "winning pot"—a pile consisting of candy and a sum of money. Kakashi was too _cool_ to bet candy, so he had put in a D-rank missions worth of cash in.

I tapped my fingers against the table, giving said silver-haired boy an appraising once-over. He looked back at me with bored, dark eyes. I immediately looked away, holding in the urge to point and scream.

Due to Obito thinking it as an unfair advantage, he forced Kakashi to _take off his mask_. Something that made me internally freak out for all of two minutes because _**WHAT.**_

The casual way he just _took it off_ ( _why do I always end up sounding like a pedophile!?_ ) had me gaping like a damn fish. In the anime, they made it seem like some _big_ _secret_.

I wasn't sure if it was a true testament to how comfortable he must be with his team and how different his younger-self was compared to the adult I grew up watching… It's like he grew up backwards. He was quite the troll as team seven's sensei.

On the other hand, him not wanting to show his face when he's older could have been from shame. He _did_ have his 'best friend's' eye in his socket and was condemned as a teammate killer.

 _I need to stop thinking of depressing things._

Whatever! His bare face didn't matter anymore. No, my problem was the fact his amount of chips was _almost_ as big as mine.

Growing up as Jemma, her mom's favorite thing to do was to play cards. Be it your standard set or tarot, she always had a deck in her hand. She taught me everything I know and introduced me to the world of being overly competitive.

Board games, card games, video games; we played them all together.

So, imagine team eight's surprise when I had handed their asses to them in the first few rounds of poker. Part of me wished I had a camera… _Oh wait…_

Safe to say the kiddy-wheels were off.

My only demand was that there were no ninja-cheating. It went against their training, but they agreed easily since I'm a child who had no chance.

Blowing my bangs away from my forehead, I leaned forward and pushed all of my chips to the center as Obito had not long before, face blank.

" _All in…_ "

Kakashi's shoulders stiffened minisculely before relaxing back into his normal calm. When he spoke, his voice was cool as a cucumber. "All in." he drawled, shrugging and pushing his remaining chips to the pot. Once done, he leaned his cheek against his propped up fist and sent me a lazy (smug) smile.

This battle wasn't between all of us anymore—it was Kakashi Vs. Akira and we both knew it. _May the best bluffer win._

Rin gasped.

Obito looked ready to pass out.

Inside, I was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

Kakashi flipped his cards to the center, displaying his high card of a King.

"Aw man! I thought you were bluffing!" Obito groaned, head falling to the table with a thump as he turned over his shitty hand. Poor Nii-chan _always_ thought Kakashi was bluffing. The idiot.

Preening, the silver-haired ninja moved to take his winnings, a much too smug look on his un-masked face. I held up a hand, my two cards held delicately between my fingers.

"Ahem!" my obnoxious throat clearing did exactly as I intended, getting my Nii-chan's attention. Finally able to drop the metaphoric mask, I allowed one side of my mouth to lift maliciously in a smirk. "Three of a kind."

" _W _hat!?__ " all three of them exclaimed at once, accentuated by Obito's loud barks of laughter.

"You lost to a toddler! _Hahaha!_ "

There was a bright flash of light, along with a light _click_ sound.

Three pairs of shocked eyes snapped my way. I'd have to wait a few days to fill up the rest of the film for dad to develop them, but the results would be _priceless._ Definitely worth _almost_ losing to Kakashi.

"Did you just… take a picture?" Rin questioned with a raised brow. She looked highly amused for someone who I tried to light on fire every time we made eye-contact.

Speaking of said silver haired dummy… His expression turned murderous. "Give me the camera."

"Don't be such a sore loser, Bakashi." Said 'baka' flinched. I began to giggle uncontrollably. "It's not like she has any friends to show it to. Other than Itachi-kun."

My laughter stopped short as I pouted at him. "No fair. I could always make _loads_ of copies, cut out you and Useless and sell the pictures to his fangirls." I glanced down at the camera in my hands, eyes sparkling with a sudden realization. "I'd be _rich_ …"

Obito bopped me on the top of my head with a fist, looking wholly unamused. "Now, now, Akira. Making profit on someone else's secret, especially a fellow ninja, isn't right."

…Wow. _What?_ That… That was… "That was very wise, Obito. Especially for being such an idiot."

"H-hey! Don't say that to your beloved big bro! I can be just as smart as Kakashi if I wanted to." he whined, fake tears streaming down his face.

Before, I would have hugged him close and told him how I _knew_ just how smart he was. How I loved him and believed in him. Yet, ever since the day he blatantly chose Rin's feelings over mine, I had taken a step back emotionally from him.

It hurt me in ways I had never known possible in the days that passed after my bullying experience. The fact Rin hadn't even acted in my defense was worse. Even if I was being trained to become a ninja, it didn't make being bullied any less traumatic.

It was the first time I actually felt vulnerable in this body as its driver, and fucking emotionally stunned _Kakashi_ helped me. Not my beloved "big brother."

Yes, he apologized (after Papa talked to them as a team. They came back looking as if they came back from a mission, not team training) but the damage was already done.

I could see his pain every time I called him by his name and not Nii-chan, but the still hurt part of my didn't give a shit.

He should have been there.

 _ **He should have cared when it mattered.**_

I turned to Kakashi with my best puppy-face on full-blast, ignoring Obito all together. His shoulders slumped from the corner of my eye, but I (- _ **loved the way it made me feel**_ ) tried as hard as I could to not be effected.

After a short stare-down with the scarecrow, he let out a long, loud sigh. "You can keep _one_ copy." I got up and shouted in joy. He called after me as I ran to my room to hide the camera— _just in case he changes his mind._ "If I find more than that, I'll burn them all!"

After hiding the camera in a ninja-proof safe place, I paused to look at my small collection of board games. An evil smile spread over my face.

 _Lets ruin families._

"How about we play Monopoly?"

"Aw man!" Obito pulled on his hair, looking both pissed off and depressed. "There's no way I could be out so quick!"

My foot shot out to kick him from under the table. I couldn't reach. "You'd win if you would quit giving Rin all of your money!"

Whenever Rin was about to lose, the idiot would swoop in and give _his_ money to her just so she would stay in the game this time. It was so _annoying_ —and I was sure that wasn't allowed.

"Well then how about you quit taking it!" he growled out, pointing an accusing finger my way.

I'd bite it off if it were closer. That was how angry I was.

"That would defeat the purpose of the game, you artichoke!"

"Calm down guys, it's just a game."

My ire immediately turned to the other female at the table who had spoken. I gave her my nastiest look. Before I could spit venom at her, Kakashi interrupted, sounding particular pissy, too. "You're acting like more of a child than Akira-chan."

Did… he just call me Akira- _chan?_ The world was ending.

We were all going to die.

Hell was freezing over.

"Who are you?" I asked the imposter, eyes squinting into slits the way mom's did toward Papa when he said something strange.

He just gave me a look as if I were stupid.

Maybe I was.

"How about I bake some cookies for us to snack on?" Rin perked up, smiling.

Taking some unseen bait, Obito pushed Kakashi out of his seat beside me and put his foot on it, leaning toward me. "Aha! I bet I can make better cookies than you!"

 _Oh, you poor soul…_

"You're on."

"Guys…"

 ***a few moments later…***

The cookies were steaming their delicious, fresh scent into the air. They say on a plate, imperfectly rounded and looking delicious. Beside them were… _Whatever Obito had made_. They looked mostly burnt.

And was that a _scale?_

The three teenagers took a bite of my cookies, instantaneous smiles lighting up on their faces.

That was what I missed about baking. How _happy_ it could make other people. Watching customers wiggle happily in their seats was the highlight of my day.

"Wow Akira-chan! Where did you learn to bake?" Rin gushed, hands on either side of her face.

Kakashi looked suspicious, but he wasn't spitting out the cookie, so I was fine with it. I knew he wasn't particularly fond of sweets. "Doesn't your father keep you away from the oven?"

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, beaming with pride, "I'm just a natural, I guess."

Obito hip-checked me out of his way, earning a squawk from me as I flailed to keep balance, and pushed his 'cookies' toward his teammates. "Okay, okay we get it. Now try mine!"

Interested, and glaring, I grabbed a cookie and took a quick bite out of it and— "Blah!" I tossed it far, _far_ away from my person. I didn't want that _thing_ anywhere near me.

"Mm!" Rin turned green and discreetly spit it out on a napkin.

Kakashi outright spit his out on the floor and turned to the Uchiha. "What the hell did you put in this? Are you trying to kill us?"

I stared at the area where the abomination landed in horror. Part of me was waiting for it to stand up and scurry under the oven with what Kakashi spit up and reproduce like a cockroach. "Why does it taste fishy?" _I knew I saw scales!_

"I thought sardine's would taste good in a cookie… They're good on their own…"

"Pffft" I couldn't help it—I laughed. My shoulders shook with the force of my mirth. Tears collected in the corners of my eyes. Rin joined in soon after, thought there was a brief moment where she tried holding it in. Eventually Obito breaks out in giggles, scratching behind his head with a blush on his cheeks.

Even Kakashi chuckled a bit as he pulled his mask back into place.

I wiped a tear from my eye. "You're an idiot, Nii-chan."

A wide, sunshine grin lit up his face.

 _Life was good._

 _ **And then the happiness shattered, leaving jagged, open wounds.**_

 _ **Wounds that never fully healed.**_

 _ **I should have forgiven him when I had the chance.**_

* * *

The world felt gray even though all I could see for miles was a sea of black. A few people cried silently—citizens—while the rest just stood there, faces blank and spines rigid. I wanted to join them but knew tears would not bring back the dead. Nothing could.

Obito… He was _gone_. Of course, I knew the Uchiha was _still alive_ but it wasn't _him_. No, the kind, gentle, bright, _happy_ Obito did not exist anymore. Fate proved set in stone. I should have tried harder to make a change. How stupid could I have been to think my existence itself could made a difference?

Obito was Tobi now—controlled and crafted by none other than Madara himself.

 _Madara_.

Just the thought of that man's name filled my small body with rage. If I ever came across that old fuck, I would tear his heart out and _eat_ _it_ —if I didn't piss myself first, that is. He was like the boogieman of this world, along with the tailed beasts.

 _ **I knew this would happen… I knew not to get too close.**_

Yet I _did_.

The Obito I grew up with was like a _brother_ to me. He brought me candy, put Band-Aids on my skinned knees and always hugged me when I was sad. He rocked me back to sleep when I woke from the nightmares that plagued me.

If there were someone I would dearly miss, it would be him. His smile that always lit up every room he walked into. The fact I would never be able to see that smile again… _It broke a piece of me_.

 _ **It was then I realized I had to do something. Even if the world was against me. Even if my efforts were to be in vain.**_

I stood next to Kakashi, trying my best to ignore the gloominess that seeped from him like water. He and Rin were in different stages of grief, but I knew that Kakashi would be stuck in his stage for the rest of his life. Anger. Both at himself and Obito.

It was easier for Rin, I thought grumpily. She was one of his first friends, sure, but her feelings for him were empty. All of her heart and attention belonged to Kakashi.

I hated her, I realized. I hated her because she should have been _stronger_ , strong enough to protect herself and her team. She didn't _deserve_ the title of kunoichi. That lack of strength was going to tear any normal piece of Kakashi that was left away to die. He would kill her, and in ways, kill himself and Obito.

They wouldn't be the same.

The war was over, but the wounds remained.

 _ **I was convinced a greater power was against me. This second chance at life I had, and I couldn't do anything to protect my loved ones? It was nothing but a cosmic joke. Still. I did what I could for the living.**_

I leaned forward and openly stared at Kakashi, something people expected of me now. His shoulders were slumped in defeat; hands stuffed fully in his pant pockets. His new eye, Obito's eye, was covered.

It made my heart ache. I wanted to tell him—wanted to shake him and _scream_ that Obito's death was not his fault. It wouldn't help, though.

Yeah. Nothing would make him feel better. He lost a friend—a brother in arms.

I grit my teeth, tearing my eyes from Kakashi. It was easier to stare blankly at the memorial rock than to watch him become someone else.

 _Funerals are so stupid._

My dad was, for once, silent. Not even a single life lesson came from his mouth. He, like Kakashi, blamed himself, no doubt.

He probably thought of how he could have saved his student, had he been just a _little_ _faster_. Ironic that the yellow flash of Konoha was not fast enough.

 _As if ending a war faster would have saved anyone_.

My mind drifted to my best friend, Itachi. Come to find out his time out of the village with his dad, he had gone witnessed the terrors of war. He had _killed_ , even. Though I was sure he would rather me think differently, he wasn't exempt from feeling the weight of that knowledge.

A person's life was a heavy weight to carry. I would know. _I was living in the body of the child I killed._

I had seen death myself. How the body's eyes glazed over, unseeing, and fogged over. If you looked closely enough, you could almost _see_ their soul leaving their bodies. It was a haunting sight.

And Perhaps I was a little disappointed that Itachi _wasn't_ untouched by what he saw during the length of time he was gone. He always made himself seem untouchable. I shouldn't put so much weight on his shoulders, though. He was a _child_. A real child, not a reincarnation—or whatever the fuck I was.

 _I have to do something._ I thought, _No. I_ need _to do something._

Breaking formation from where I stood on my dad's right side, I shuffled a few steps to stand in front of Kakashi. It was as if he was looking _through_ me.

My heart tightened. I set my jaw stubbornly. Fuck cannon.

With renewed determination—I had to make the last of my adopted family members better, even if just a little—I stood between Kakashi's feet and pushed my arms through his own. I hugged him tight, ignoring how he went rigid, and tried not to think of his shock.

I wondered if I was the only person to have ever consoled him this way.

When he tried to move from the embrace, I stubbornly refused let go, sight going cloudy with unshed tears. It didn't matter to me that my arms couldn't wrap fully around his body, I just grabbed on harder; trying to force as much emotional strength as I possibly could into the contact.

Slowly but surely he began to relax. The urge to tell him how Obito wasn't dead, that he was still alive and able to be _saved_ tore through my conscious relentlessly, but I forced it down, down, down: until it was tightly packed and shoved into a particularly crowded corner of my mind I kept caged and locked.

I didn't hug Rin, nor did I feel any amount of pity toward her. Honestly, I was more than a little mad at her. She could have made Obito _happy_. Instead, she just wanted to keep her head stiffly up Kakashi's asshole.

She was a corpse walking, anyway. I'd confront Itachi later when he wasn't surrounded by so many people.

I needed to _hit_ something.

My arms pumped at my sides. My breath came out in pants as my lungs struggled to use air correctly. I could see my reflection in the stream of water to my right. To the left was a high cliff I had grown to find comfort in.

That cliff knew me better than anyone in this village. Just looking at it made me feel small, both in stature and insightfully.

The homemade weights I crafted out of rope and rocks were heavy on my shoulders but at this point, it didn't bother me anymore. Nothing really _mattered_ anymore.

 _ **Nothing can matter when you're empty.**_

I pushed myself to run faster around a small bend, sandals crunching soundly over the gravel. Once out in the open, I noticed something that made my legs slow. I came to a stop, eyes narrowed at the odd shadow up ahead. It rapidly grew with every passing moment I stood there.

Nearby crows began cawing loudly, making the uneasiness in my stomach grow. Slowly, _so slowly_ , I looked up. Something constricted in my body.

Someone was falling from the cliff. Had they jumped? Been pushed?

I was frozen.

That body looked strikingly familiar… Kind of like—

"Itachi!?"

I wasn't close enough. There was no way I would be able to save him, yet I ran anyway, stumbling over the rocky ground in my efforts. I dropped the make-shift weights on my way.

The way I ran was desperate and sloppy. I tripped and fell to my knee, scraping the skin raw. It didn't matter. In the brink of terror, _nothing_ mattered by the dropping body of my best friend and how I _needed to save him._ ** _H_** _e_ ** _w_** A **s gO** _i_ ** _n_** G **tO** d **IE**!

How could he **do** this to me? How could he willingly falling from the sky like some sort of a fallen angel? Didn't he know there was a painful **s** **t** ** _op_** at the end!?

Then, like a calming balm, a memory flashed through my mind. My pace slowed to a jog and became less frantic.

I had almost forgotten. This happened in the anime. He would be fine and grow an attachment with crows, if I remembered correctly.

For just a moment, I felt extremely silly.

Itachi wouldn't just _die_ so easily. He had a story to live out. A crow cawed.

Just at that moment, as if reading my thoughts, Itachi stopped his decent with two kunai, plunging them deep into the steep face of the rocks. My heart was close to beating out of my damn throat and didn't slow until he was safe on the ground, surrounded by crows.

A crow made perch on Itachi's outstretched hand when I was close enough to hear. The ink black crow turned its head to me, cawed, and then flew away.

Still, even with my future knowledge I felt anger boil inside of me. All of the lingering terror that mounted in my stomach unleashed itself and exploded.

Itachi barely had time to see me before I was tackling him to the ground.

"You bastard!" I shrieked.

I punched him in the face.

His head jerked to the side. If the moment were not so serious, I probably would have laughed at the look of pure shock on his face. Just for that, I hit him again. _Again_.

"You selfish," another punch, "little shit!" finally, he caught my hand and maneuvered himself out from under me, throwing me to the side. I fell back with an ' _oof'_ but collected myself enough to stand back up and shake my fist at him threateningly.

"Do you understand how _heartbroken_ your mother would be if she lost you!? Did you even stop to think of how your clan would feel? Your father?"

Itachi cast his eyes to the ground in shame, wiping a hand across his abused cheek. Ah, his nose was bleeding.

Tears flooded my eyes, blurring my sight shortly. I tore a piece of my shirt off and wiped his blood away, careful not to cause him more pain. My voice came out weak and shaky, "How _I_ would feel?"

Once done cleaning him up, I launched myself at him, this time in a bruising hug.

My emotions were out of my hands. It shook me in a way I did not know I could feel to see Itachi almost die. How his body looked falling without any safety net. It didn't make sense. Sure, he was my best friend; but I _knew_ one day that Sasuke would kill him. My body's response in hitting him didn't make sense, either. I had never been particularly violent in my old life. If anything I was a doormat to all of my friends. Too afraid of doing anything that would upset them and have them leave.

One thing was clear, though.

I did _not_ want Itachi Uchiha to die. Not any time soon.

In the dark, emptiness of my heart, I vowed to destroy _anyone_ who would try to harm him in any way. I vowed to become strong—stronger than those with malicious intentions toward any of my loved ones.

Surprisingly, I felt nothing at the next thought that came to my mind. That regardless of years in a world that taught murder to be a sin, I would have no problem in _killing_ anyone who got in my way.

 _ **A flame began to grow. It was all consuming and fueled only by dark and hateful thoughts. It was the beginning of my decent into madness, and I welcomed it with open arms.**_

 **END**

 **A/N:**

 **Now. Something IMPORTANT.**

 **As an apology, I plan on writing a scene chosen by YOU.**

 **Your choices are as follows:**

 **(1) Future Akira (2) Minato's reaction (to Akira's bullying) (3) Jemma's past (4) READERS CHOICE (where you give an idea and I write it. If its cannon to the story or not is up to _you_.)**

 **Also, as of now I have two completely different ways this story will branch out. With the death of her parents coming up, I was going to ask you, my readers, if you wanted Akira to become a jinchūriki or not. There are slight differences in both stories, but the endings are the same.**

 **Tell me what you think: Jinchūriki!Akira or Normal!Akira?**

 **Hope to hear from you guys. I'll be reading the reviews to see your answer/ ideas and reactions to this chapter.**

 **Till next time!**

 **~Siren**

 **Next on Momentum:** Aftermath, surprises, fun and _devastation_.


	6. Chapter 6: Floors and New Doors

**A/N:**

 **HAH! I BET YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A VERY LATE APRIL FOOLS.**

 **There have been a few small changes and edits to the past chapters, and an important question at the end of chapter 5 I will re-ask at the end of this chapter. Also, don't mind any activity in the next couple of days as I will be going back (yet again) just to edit the story's mistakes in order for it to read and flow better. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOo**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Floors and New Doors**

 _Jemma's unoccupied hand tapped light, nonsensical rhythms on the dining table. She eyed the two cards before her. Not good... With quick, practiced movements, what would have been a losing hand became but a memory. Across from her, her mom pursed her lips in concentration, ignorant to the swift edging to her defeat._

 _Around them, the sweet smell of baked goods-mostly cupcakes-mixed deliciously with the aroma of coffee that sat hot in their mugs. The combination swirled into the air, creating the comforting scent that permanently hung around the Walker home. They were bakers, after all, so it was only fitting that their home smelt just as wonderful as the attached shop._

 _Tomorrow was the birthday Fran's, of one of their frequent customers daughter. She had ordered over three hundred cupcakes for the joyous occasion. It was a large order, but her mother had accepted, preaching about the importance of return customers and their influence on the business._

 _The rest of the pastries in the ovens were meant for restocking the bakery, something they partook in every night._

 _To pass the time, they played poker. They sat across from each other, silent and watchful with faces made carefully blank._

 _"Raise." Jemma announced, throwing in a few more chips to the pot._

 _"Call." Her mom replied immediately, adding in her own and flipping the last card—A Queen of Diamonds._

 _Their eyes met for a brief moment before they showed their hands. There was a tense moment before her mother drooped in her seat with a hissed "_ Dammit _." The older woman rubbed a weary hand down her face, glaring between her fingers. "I regret ever teaching you how to cheat."_

 _Jemma huffed, stacking her winning chips in the correct piles, not even trying to hide the immense satisfaction she felt in beating her mom. "I'm not cheating; you're just a sore loser." She replied offhandedly-a complete lie._

 _The sound of a phone notification ping came from the teenagers pocket, making the girl instantaneously perk up. As Jemma smiled at the screen, her mother again watched with analyzing eyes as her hands deftly shuffled their well-worn playing deck._

 _Once done replying to the text, Jemma stood with her mug and walked to the coffee machine, humming happily to herself. One of the many perks of co-owning a bakery was the delicious, expensive blends of coffee they always had on hand. With bitter notes of cocoa and the sweetness of vanilla, her caffeine addiction was always well-fed._

 _Juliette, her mother, continued to watch the teenager flaunt about the kitchen like a careless butterfly, gaze slowly turning scrutinizing._

 _"…Soooo. What's his name?" her mother droned, boredom lacing her drawn out vowels._

 _Jemma jumped up from behind the opened refrigerator, cheeks blazing red. "Mom!" she whined._

 _Her mother put the deck down and rested a dainty hand under her chin, shrugging nonchalantly. "What? You've been acting all '_ Disney Princess' _lately. I'm concerned."_

 _With a loud groan, Jemma threw the door closed with a rattle and crouched to the ground, covering her reddening face. Her mother simply stared at her, unrelenting._

 _"…Samuel." the teen gave in._

 _"I knew it!"_

 _Jemma shrunk even further. "_ Please _don't make a big deal about this-"_

 _Her pleas went unheard as her mother cut her off. "When will I get to meet this young man? It's not every day my shut-in of a daughter takes interest in something as frivolous as_ boys _."_

Hopefully never, _Jemma thought bitterly to herself. She could see the headlines of the local newspaper now: "Kentucky Mother Goes on Rampage After Finding Out Daughter Is Secretly Dating Older Man!" They'd be the talk of the town for sure._

 _No, Jemma would take the fact Sam was 8 years her senior to her grave, thank you. The last thing she needed was her mom pressing charges against him. It would be so humiliating, for both Sam_ and _herself._

 _She would never be able to see or talk to him again. The thought was just too painful._

 _It wasn't as if it was her fault she fell for someone much older than herself. Guys her age weren't mature enough. They were only interested in sex or video games. And that wasn't even taking into consideration they also had absolutely no interest in_ her _, either._

 _Sam wasn't like that. He was a_ gentleman _._

 _Poised, kind and interested in the same things Jemma was. They could stay up all night talking about books, the stars or their future together. He'd go on long tangents about how beautiful she was, and how much she meant to him. Sometimes they even talked about running away to Vegas and getting married._

 _No, she never wanted her mother to know. She just wouldn't understand._

* * *

 **oOoOoOoOo**

* * *

Akira sat across from her Papa, short legs crossed and hands resting lightly over her knees.

Her butt hurt.

They had been sitting still for thirty minutes. The only sound disturbing the stillness in the air was the slow, even breaths coming from the duo. A strained tension floated between them, simmered full of expectations and suspense.

It was driving her insane.

How was she supposed to concentrate when Minato was practically buzzing in place with anticipation? The fatherly hope in his sparkling blue eyes was enough to slowly crush her.

'What if's' pelted her ego like minuscule droplets of acid, burning through to her inner fears and releasing them inside of her crowded brain. She'd never amount to their high expectations. Sure, her body was capable of becoming a ninja, but the fact stood she was nothing more than a baker from Kentucky.

Akira missed her mom, but as it was, Kushina was on an in-village mission with her team. Busy running messages around and saving the world—normal jinchūriki shit, the young girl guessed. Seemed like a complete waste of a powerful resource, but how could Akira complain? It kept her loved ones close and relatively safe (nowhere in this world was _completely_ safe, she knew). If she were able to, she'd put them all in a bubble and hide them in a basement for the rest of their lives. Or until someone busted her. Whichever came first.

Since her father, and what was left of his 'genin' team (Kakashi was jounin), were down a member ( **he was _gonegoneGONE_ - _how could he_ _leave her?_** ) they were unable to go on missions for a short period of time. The teens never visiting hung heavy on her father's shoulders.

Papa had taken the day off which was… strange, to say the least. It was shocking in itself that he was so easily able to do so considering they were still at war, but Akira was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Unless it had a heartbeat, that is.

Akira soaked up his attention much like a dried sponge that had spent years in Suna's desert— _if_ Suna even _had_ sponges. Sponges required large bodies of water since they were, technically, a living aquatic animal. And wasn't _that_ just a lovely thought? Washing your body with the dead, re-hydrated corpse of a once-living creature.

That would be akin to wiping one's ass with a dehydrated bunny rabbit. All for the sake of smooth skin. Regardless, no one traded with Suna, so the possibility of them even knowing what a sponge was could be null and void.

Okay, she was getting off topic. Again.

Akira peeked an inquisitive eye open and was a little shocked to see her Papa looking right back. The reincarnated soul was quick to close her eyes again, straightening her spine and holding her breath. Maybe he didn't see?

Nonetheless, the glance was enough to get her submerged back into her task with renewed vigor, even as a blush crept onto her pale cheeks.

Minato looked at her with a fatherly fondness that transcended beyond any physical plane. She could feel his love like a weighted blanket. His presence calm and assuring and _warm_. It made her feel safe. As if no one could touch her.

The part of her that was still Jemma wondered if this could have been what _her_ father would have been like if he hadn't died.

She immediately doubted it.

The people in this world, she noticed, loved on a completely different level than that of her old life, and was something she couldn't put easily in words. It was like all of the rushing, roaring thoughts in her head became _silent._ It was absolutely _addicting_.

Not a temporary fix like drugs or prescriptions. Being around her loved ones brought her to levels of joy and strength she didn't have _Before_.

The love she felt here was _more_ and felt _alive._

"Akira,"

Papa's soft voice eased her out of meditation, but she could tell simply by his tone that he did not want her to completely come out of the tranquil state she had reached, just to listen.

Minato was teaching her mediation as a ways to, in his words, 'reach inner enlightenment with the chakra around her.' Whatever he meant by _that_.

She was enlightened as fuck, okay? She had literally _died and been_ _reincarnated_. If anything, she should be the one teaching _him_.

The exercise they were going through was to teach her to reach deep inside of herself, until she wasn't a physical being _._ Instead, she became nothing more than a tiny dark red orb, floating alone in a sea of darkness. The orb was vibrant and _alive,_ just as she remembered it. Flames flickering on a nonexistent breeze, traced with hints of blue and green.

When she'd reached this stage the third time meditating, Akira had been terrified at seeing the thing that doomed her to this world and lost the state of mind she reached. It took weeks afterwards to stand up against that fear, accept it and move on. Thankfully, finding it that one time made it marginally easier to find it again. Imagine her surprise when Papa told her what she found was her _chakra_. It made her ponder if chakra was nothing more than the soul. Did using it deplete a person's life force? Or were they all separate things? Was there part of one's soul that could replenish itself? All questions no one had the answers for.

Her father spoke again. "Place your palm on the floor and concentrate. Open your minds eye and feel the world around you. Welcome it, but do not become overcome by it. You are always in control of what you allow to filter through… Good. Now reach out and try to find my chakra."

Akira nodded dutifully, listening to his instructions intently. With a deep, centering breath, she followed he said and… felt nothing.

Akira tried to not be annoyed but it was so hard _not_ to. They had been doing this for _months_ with no luck. It was like hitting a steel wall over and over again with the same outcome: failure.

A loud sigh escaped her as violet eyes opened, gleaming with irritation. " _It's just not working!_ "

Papa's looked to her with a sideways smile, not minding the small outburst. "You can't expect to overcome _everything_ the first time you do it, Wildfire. Things like this take _time_."

Akira crossed her arms and curled into herself, turning her head so she wouldn't have to look at him. She fought back the urge to snap at him, that this _wasn't_ the first time she tried and how he had been _younger_ when he was able to hone his sensing skills. It was hard to keep in her screams of how time was one of the things she wasn't awarded with in this life.

Akira gave the sky outside of the window a particularly heated glare. She just _knew_ he was disappointed in her. How could he not be?

Sensing came to him so easily and she was his _daughter_. His flesh and blood. In this world, didn't that mean something? Genetics were so strong there were literally clans who all had similar looks and abilities! Why did she have to have so much of an issue with it?

Was the only thing she was able to inherit from him his bright golden hair?

Minato reached over and placed a hand on her head, gaining her attention once again. "Come on, let's try again." he encouraged, ruffling her hair into a mess. It was crazy enough _without_ him doing that.

"What's the _point?_ " Akira hissed, swatting his hand away. The ninja caught the appendage easily, encasing it within his warm one, and pulled her easily into his lap.

Her anger edged, but not fully. "If you try again... I'll get you that sewing kit you've been eyeing for over a month now." His voice was light and overly casual as he bribed her. He pet her hair again, this time attempting to run his fingers through the tangles he'd made.

 _Hmm_. So he was going to stoop so low as to bribe her into doing what he wanted me to? Ha! He didn't know who he was messing with.

Purposefully making her voice small and thoughtful, Akira added onto the list. If she was going to be manipulated, she may as well milk it for what it was worth. "a-and some fabrics along with a crocheting set..?"

Papa's voice was colored lightly in surprise, "a crochet set? Isn't that a bit much?"

Akira turned in his lap, lip poked out, "You can't have one without the other." The words were spoken in the matter-of-fact tone of a child. "That's like getting kunai without shuriken. Polish without a polishing rag."

He didn't look convinced.

"I'll start meditating every day, too…" she added, voice trailing off at the end. She would regret that promise later.

Eyes the color of the sky sparkled with amusement.

Guess being manipulative as a ninja child was considered a good thing—for the most part.

She held no notion had she been trying to get out of something like chores or punishment; this conversation would have gone an _entirely_ different way.

One that would have her standing with her nose in a corner while doing a handstand, no doubt.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that. Now, close your eyes…"

She obeyed eagerly, ecstatic at the prospect of gifts, and fell into the soothing comfort of her chakra like an old friend. When she was aware of the chakra coiled in her stomach, she took a short moment to stare at it in awe.

Seeing the manifestation of life in this world was exhilarating no matter how many times she bore witness to it. She was practically vibrating with energy, both at learning and at the hope of making her father proud.

Akira noted minutely that Papa had taken her hand in his, moving it to rest on the ground, his own on top of hers. "When I tell you to, open your minds eye."

Her hand tingled under his larger one. The swift feeling of her guts rising took her breath away. It was as if she was sinking _into_ the floor. What felt like tiny needles spread out of her palm and dug deep into the ground, passing the hardwood of the flooring and deep into the dirt. Down, down, down it went, like a rabbit trotting through its burrow. Then, like a wave, the feeling swiftly moved outward.

"Go ahead."

She did as told and audibly gasped.

It was _beautiful_.

All around her, what seemed to be thousands of lights, all twinkling in varying ranges of colors, sizes and brightness, swarmed around her. As it was, she couldn't focus on any one, just a bigger picture. And it was breathtaking. Exhilarating. Like seeing a galaxy in her old world.

Definitely not as big—she didn't believe she was seeing the entirety of the village—just their surroundings—but even just the glance brought fresh tears rising to her eyes.

Akira held onto that feeling. Warm. Fuzzy. Breezy. Light. _Love._

It was extraordinary.

Just as quickly as it happened, it ended. The girl sat there for a moment longer, basking in the afterglow of what occurred. She felt… _indestructible_.

"I was hoping that would work." Papa sounded so satisfied in himself that she almost rolled her eyes.

Figures he would try something without knowing if it would work.

"That was… _amazing_." The girl begun, opening her eyes and staring at her hand in awe, "There were so many I could sense! Is it always like that?" she turned to her papa, expectant and smiling.

The future Hokage stood up, her body still secured in his arms, and walked to a picture hanging on the wall. It was a map-a picture, really- of the village (don't ask her how he managed to acquire _that_. Cameras were extremely pricey, along with the picture prints. One of that magnitude must have cost him a pretty penny) they had hanging in the house.

"It _is_ amazing, isn't it?" he agreed, voice taking the same mesmerized tone as her own. "What you just saw was only a small piece of the village—your coils are too inexperienced to withstand me showing you everything-but one day you will be able to do it on your own."

She nodded slowly, head resting on his shoulder. He smelt of bonfires and parchment.

Listening to Minato babble on about _anything_ was therapeutic in many ways. He was just so passionate about all he spoke of, his deep melodic voice so welcoming. "Mm. So pretty…" Her head spun. Man. Was she this sleepy before?

Papa made a noise of agreement, "There is so much life and beauty in this village, my little Wildfire-no, in this _world!_ Things you couldn't even _begin_ to imagine. It's what I wish to protect. Being a sensor is not only an advantage as a ninja, it's a special _connection_ to the world around you. Having the ability to see pure energy and life, being connected with it even for a moment…" he paused, letting out a sigh of bliss, "We're all connected, Akira. Not by fate or some mystical being, but by what's in here." he poked her tummy, where her chakra gathered, "Chakra connects us all as living beings, while friendship and love bring us together as family. That's how this village came together."

She yawned, not from boredom, but from the bone-deep tiredness crawling into her marrow. "Is that why you wanna be Hokage?"

He chuckled, a sound that came from deep within his chest. "That's one of the reasons, Wildfire."

"Then what's the main reason?"

There was a pause. "I was born to a cruel world, darling. My father-your grandfather-was a very powerful shinobi from our now extinct clan; known for their intuitive minds, speed, agility and stealth. Their lifespans were not known to be lengthy since many worked as assassins. Alongside them were the scholars who traveled the world to learn rare techniques, bringing them back to the clan to strengthen us. Others were doctors, like my mother."

Minato paused, eyes taking on a faraway look as if brought back to a different place and time.

"He was there for me as long as he could have been, and by that time we had settled down in Konoha. Here, I learned the Will of Fire, knowing in my heart I was born with it." his eyes sharpened back to normal as he looked down at her. He smiled. "It didn't matter that Konoha wasn't my birthplace. The people here accepted me, though reluctantly at first. They encouraged me and gave me the tools to be able to uphold that Will; to protect those I love and draw strength in times of darkness from that love."

Just like the darkness pulling Akira down sleeps rabbit hole and into the endless nightmares of truths she refused to acknowledge.

With the poetic words of her father echoing in her ears, Akira slipped off into oblivion.

 _"'the fire's shadow illuminates the village.'"_

* * *

 **0o0o0o0o0**

* * *

"You're going to be a big sister, _y'know_!" mom announced happily, clapping her hands together. Papa sat next to her on the couch with his arm wrapped around her, a proud smile splitting his face, blue eyes sparkling.

My world came to a screeching halt.

Naruto was coming.

There were only eight seldom months, give or take, before they would die.

I would be _alone._

I was running out of time.

 ** _Why wasn't I given more time?_**

They would leave me to this world as an orphan—a fucking _Uzumaki_ orphan. _The Fourth_ _Hokage's_ orphan. People would come after me just for who my dad was and try to hurt me. Most people already knew who I was—no matter how much Papa tried hiding me away after I was nearly killed.

The nice man at the bakery, the Uchiha clan, Mom and Papa's teammates and friends— _important people_ knew I existed.

Would the Uchiha, who held a grudge with me, sell me out and hand me over to a person threatening the village? Or worse, would they join in on the destruction?

This had to be why they kept Naruto's true parentage secret in the show, since it would put a metaphorical bullseye on his back. At least, that was what I _thought_ would happen. My racing thoughts were nothing more than speculation.

Regardless, I would not have that sort of luxury. I was known. ( ** _Ineedmoretime_** )

 **-they were both looking at me, worry furrowing their brow-**

It was stupid to become so attached to these people. These _characters_ that have changed the very meaning of my existence. Who have given me nothing short of unconditional love as I sat upon my throne of _lies_.

 _Will I not be able to keep my baby brother safe?_

That thought alone gave me pause… Clarity slowly breached through the thick fog of **_deathdeathdeath—_** That's right. I would be a _sister_. A _real_ sister… I never had a sibling before. This was… This was great, right? I could help Naruto as he grew. Let him _know_ he was loved and wanted, even if it is from only one person. I couldn't be selfish. Not with him. Not with a baby on the way.

No. I would cherish him above all, and _always_ be there for him. My parents may vanish like a phantom in the night; but Naruto would _need me._

Then I snapped back, realizing I had been still for far too long. Minato and Kushina's smiles bordered on strained.

I beamed at my parents and jumped in their arms with the delighted squeal I knew they expected of me. I had to fight the bile rising up my throat at the thought that I was holding **_corpses_** (because that's what they were, weren't they? Animated carcasses awaiting decay.)

Becoming Akira had crafted me into a formidable liar. My best work being all of the lies I told myself **_(number one being that I was okay with the death that was to come)_**.

All of this was nothing more than a secondary role in my mind; it made it easier to deal with.

All of the bad thoughts, feelings and knowledge were pushed down, down, down…

They disappeared into the cold void of my metaphorical chain-locked box.

The world seemed less bright.

* * *

 **0o0o0o0o0**

 **END**

 **0o0o0o0o0**

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 **A/N: This chapter was originally longer-like 11,000 words longer, but I decided to split it up.**

 **Thank you so much for the continued support! Most of you don't leave reviews, but that's okay. The story is only getting started and I am aware of the fact im not the best author ever. Your follows, favorites and reviews fuel my love for this story!**


	7. Chapter 7: Nothing Really Lasts Forever

**Chapter 7: Nothing Really Lasts Forever**

* * *

After the day Itachi (literally) flung himself off a cliff, I clung to him like a (annoying) second skin. It mattered not that a large portion of the Uchiha Clan wasn't accepting of my friendship with their young heir. I was used to hearing his clan's elderly whispering vile, venomous things about how Itachi "should be hanging around an Uchiha child, not an _Uzumaki_." Or, "That Uzumaki brat is brainwashing him—look at how he acts in public! So unrefined."

The times someone would say something particularly nasty about my clan, Itachi physically had to pull me away. If they wanted to talk shit, they had better be prepared to back it up when confronted, even if a toddler foaming from the mouth was the one to dish out the pain.

At least, that was how I imagined it in my mind. The sad reality was, more times than not, I was the one who got hurt, not them. It didn't matter. I sported my cuts and bruises with dignity.

After the day I was bullied, there was an emptiness left in me. The truest wakeup call I'd ever received. When I was done feeling afraid, I became _angry_. At my small, defenseless body, at this _world._ In the wake of fear, I made a vow. That I would _always_ make my voice heard. Over the whispers _and_ over the screams.

Those who disrespected me or the people I loved would get no sympathy from me. No fucks given. I couldn't stand to feel helpless against their unjust prejudice.

Alas, the only time I left my best friend alone was when his dad would teach him Uchiha techniques. Itachi had spoken against his father's orders, saying I could hang around, but I politely refused.

He could use the alone time with his father, considering how often Fugaku was sent on missions these days. It was something I could understand. Papa and mom were always on missions, only getting a day's rest between being gone for weeks or months. The Uchiha head seemed grateful about my insistence.

Honestly, Fugaku wasn't even _that_ _bad_ of a guy. He was grumpy and quiet; more interested in listening and thinking than speaking—but not directly mean. Come to think of it, he was a bit awkward. A lot like Itachi, really, just a tad more prudish. Which made it _so_ much fun to make him uncomfortable.

One time, after the announcement of an incubating Sasuke, I'd asked him where babies came from. His face had turned such an interesting shade of pink as he stumbled over words for me to ask my _own_ parents about procreation. After, he went on a tangent about how I was always hanging around his house and eating his food. Then, in true Konoha fashion, he promptly disappeared in a flurry of leaves.

I had laughed for hours.

"One day my dad will say you aren't allowed to come over." Itachi said one day over pie—apple, of course.

The day was nice so we enjoying our 'secret place'—the stream where Itachi met his crows (we never spoke of his 'fall' from the cliff. _Ever._ ) We spent a lot of time there. It was free of societies spiteful glares.

I snorted at the thought of Gaku-sama forbidding me to enter his house. "Nonsense. Your dad _loves_ me." I flipped my growing blonde locks over my shoulder. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tried arranging us to marry."

Pink dusted Itachi's alabaster cheeks as he shifted on the green blanket under us. It made sitting on rocks feel less like, well, _sitting on rocks_. "Why would he ask _you_ of all people?" he inquired, voice an octave higher.

It took my immense self-control not to outright laugh at his obvious discomfort. Anything having to do with romance, in any context, made Itachi turn into a flustered, bashful mess.

I chewed my pie, fixing a contemplative look on my face, as if I was thinking about it long and hard, "Because..." I ticked off the reasons on my fingers. They came easily. "I'm your only friend, and just so happen to be a _girl;_ I'm the top kunoichi of our class; I come from a strong clan; _and_ I just so happen to be the future Hokage's only daughter."

"Your dad isn't Hokage, so the last point is mute. I'm sure Orochimaru-sama will become the Fourth. _And I have other female friends_." He tried arguing.

This time I _did_ laugh. Both of us knew his declaration of having any interaction with the fairer sex was an outright lie. They were all fangirls, and he loathed the attention they gave him. His mention of Orochimaru becoming Hokage also went ignored. It was something we disagreed on, and I didn't feel like arguing my point to someone who wouldn't see reason.

Anyone who put their own twisted desire to become immortal over human life was disgusting and didn't deserve to be the leader of a village. Not that anyone knew of his habits.

Itachi's blush deepened. "If he had _any_ reason, it would probably be that he's afraid you'll beat up any other girl he tries to set me up with."

I looked to him, fully serious. "Damn right."

"Language."

I shifted to my knees and faced him fully. Even the thought of another person being close to him as I was, or worse, _closer_ , made me feel slightly homicidal… Was that healthy? I should probably talk to that stupid therapist…

"Anyone your dad has to _force_ you to marry isn't worthy of being your wife. You have to choose with your heart." I reached over to press his chest where his heart was with a single finger. "Marriage is a sacred vow of trust held between two people in love. If your wife ever hurt you or become unfaithful, I'll separate her head from her body and give it to you as a gift."

Now it was his time to snort. He swat away my hand, ignoring the thick atmosphere I had produced. "And who is worthy? _You?_ " his blush reached his ears now.

There was a pause as I thought back on my previous statement. None of what I said was a lie. I meant every word. The fact I held so little value over human life was… worrying. ' _In the end, maybe I'm no better than Orochimaru.'_ I put those thoughts aside and sent him a blinding smile.

"Maybe I am." the smile transformed into something more sinister. "Maybe I'll kill every girl that tries to come anywhere close to you." I leaned forward so our noses touched and stared mischievously into his coal eyes. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

He squirmed in place, no doubt unsure what to do. A thought came to me that maybe… Itachi and I were destined to be together in this world. Two misunderstood kid geniuses— **a** L **l** _O_ _ **f**_ i **t** **S** _ **t**_ oL **e** _ **n**_ _ **—**_ who had no place.

Him, a complete paradox: someone who hates murder and war, yet in time will have the blood of his entire clan—even children—on his hands. He would probably kill more in his short life than the average shinobi would their entire career, all to protect his village and little brother.

Then there was me, withholding the ultimate knowledge this universe held and unable to change _anything_. Willing to cut down anyone who stood in her way, disregarding years of lessons from another life in an instant.

I narrowed my eyes and the space between our mouths disappeared.

Itachi froze.

My lips firmly pressed against his, and to my utter shock, he kissed back. It was just two lengthy pecks, but still our first kiss.

It felt… _Well_ …

Both of us pushed away from the other and made gagging noises into the blanket under us. I thought about licking the pebbled ground.

"Gross!" he shouted.

"It's like kissing my _brother_!" I cried.

After we washed our mouths in the stream (so we wouldn't get cooties, of course), both of us began laughing. I fell back onto the ground and stared up at my best friend. Warmth spread from my heart at the sound of Itachi's unrestrained laughter. I felt pride that _I_ was the one who could get that kind of reaction out of him.

Since he witnessed so much death in the war, he hadn't been quite the same. He put up a great front, but I could see through it easily.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. I loved it when he laughed. He so rarely allowed himself to show his emotions anymore that whenever it happened it was akin to landing a kunai directly in the bullseye.

No, that wasn't quite right…

Being around Itachi himself was like coming home after a long day of training to the smell of apple pie, greeted with happiness and unconditional love. My heart would swell with affection; the emptiness in my chest would feel less gaping. The icy terrain of my mind would sprout fields of flowers, melting away all of my worries.

In that moment, I knew I loved Itachi with my whole being. It was clear now that though these were wonderful emotions, this wasn't a _romantic_ love. That much was obvious; especially after that train wreck of a first kiss.

Sure, this set back my plan of maybe one day marrying him—since being with him would no doubt be easy; we resonated amazingly as friends and sparring partners (even if he always kicked my ass), why not devote myself to him? What was even better was that he wasn't taken in the future.

Meh, so much for that.

I watched as Itachi wiped his eyes and tilted his head, ever the curious bird, his smile was faint now but still there. "That was not how I imagined it would feel." He admitted.

My smile dimmed in confusion, "What do ya mean?"

He looked to the ground to hide his face and scratched the back of his neck. "Well… I kind of thought I uh… _Loved_ _you_ … Romantically, that is."

"Loved me?" I asked, blindsided by the confession.

No. That could never be— _we_ could never be. This test was eye-opening. How could a creature like me, someone who hides themselves under layers upon layers of lies ever _truly_ be loved? It was impossible, and I knew that now. I thought too highly of myself to ever believe I deserved someone as good as him.

"I guess." He shrugged, "But like you said… _Kissing a_ _brother_." He threw a pebble at me that I swat away with ease.

My smile was no doubt foxy as I shoved thoughts of love into the back of my empty heart "Oh I see~"

There was no place for romantic love in this empty husk. Only devotion.

Itachi rolled his eyes and looked to the sky as if it would help him. Both of us knew he wouldn't find anything. Unless it was a crow sent to pluck my tongue from my mouth.

"You had a _crush_ on little ol' me? _The_ Uchiha Itachi?" I fanned myself with my hand. "I'm so honored."

Itachi walked back to his spot on the blanket, sat down with the grace of royalty, and went back to eating his pie. "You're impossible."

"I mean—I don't even know where to start!"

" _Then_ _don't_."

I ignored his pleas, instead standing up and acting as if I were receiving a Golden Globe.

Offhandedly, I deflected and dodged the rain of pebbles from my furiously blushing best friend. "First, I'd like to thank my mother and father for reproducing and creating a fuckin'—" -Itachi interrupted me to say _language,_ but I ignored him easily- "— _Legend_. Next I would like to thank— _wait'a_ _minute_. _What do you mean by brother!?_ "

He laughed again, even as I tried stabbing him with his fork.

Later we came to an agreement: if we were both still single by the time we reached twenty-five, we would marry each other. Family and all. The interlocking of our pinkies sealed the deal. I fought hard to not think of him never making it that far.

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

"Read me another story?"

"It's three in the morning, Brat. I've read enough. It's time for you to sleep."

I bit my lip, nodding, and turned my body away from him, pulling my fluffy comforter over my head. "I cant." was my barely-there whisper. I didn't intend for him to hear me, but his hearing was sharper than I gave him credit for.

Kakashi let out a sigh from his position on the floor, his back resting against my bed. Around him were piles of books, short stories, really, that my parents and various others had gotten for me. "and what's your excuse this time? Need a glass of water? Have to pee?" I could practically feel his glare.

Nights like this where both my parents were gone on missions, they would have close friends or Papa's team put me to sleep. Though he seemed annoyed any time he had to do it, Kakashi would always read me to sleep. The others would normally keep to themselves downstairs, but not team Minato.

They spent enough time at our house that it may as well be theirs, too.

Instead of speaking, I shook my head.

"... Are you having nightmares again?" his voice was softer. More kind.

At his words, a plethora of images and feelings of fear and anguish shot through me that normally accompanied me in my sleep. My true origins hung above me like a threat, waiting for the Yamanaka to unveil and hang me with.

"Hey," Kakashi's voice ebbed in, quiet but strong, "how about I tell you a story my… father use to tell me?"

Reluctantly, I pulled myself from my own mind and gave my full attention to the silver-haired teen who somehow was now sitting on my bed. I turned toward him, feeling more like the terrified toddler that my body was than ever, and lend him my ear. This was the first time he's _ever_ talked about his father to me.

He shifted uncomfortably for a beat before speaking again, voice apathetic to the untrained ear. Never before had that flat falsity ever sounded so alive and raw.

" _There once was a velveteen puppy who was loved by a boy…"_

The story was that of the velveteen rabbit from my world, but instead of a fluffy bunny, it was of a puppy. Hearing a story that so closely resembled one from my childhood Before was strange, yet welcome.

For the first time in weeks, I dreamed of nothing.

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

I stood silently next to Kakashi at Rin's grave. It finally happened. The war was over—thank all the gods above—and Papa was soon to be named the Yondaime Hokage.

The war had created unforeseen consequences—one of them being Kakashi's mental state. Since Obito's death, Kakashi and I had actually began to get along better. Sure he was closed off and didn't talk much but we shared an enjoyment in books. He had been _healing._

Looking back, I had fooled myself into thinking my interference or existence would do anything to stop him from going down his dark path.

' _I have to do something_ ,' I thought. ' _He's going to turn into a person he will later regret_.'

My hand reached out and took his. He froze instantly. It took me a moment to notice I was holding the hand that he'd killed Rin with. _Oops_.

Before I could let go, in his haste, Kakashi pushed me down.

I huffed from my place on the ground, ignoring the stinging scratches on my elbows and blew hair away from my eyes. It took effort to pretend I didn't notice the wild, wide-eyed look of complete _horror_ he sent me.

My voice was low and calm as I stood, sure to not make any sudden movements. "Sometimes in order to protect the people we care about, it means hurting them. I don't believe those gossipers who say you're a teammate killer—that you did it on purpose—because that _is_ _not_ _who_ _you_ _are_. Rin didn't want to become the downfall of her village. She didn't _want_ to be labeled as a monster. You _saved_ her."

There was a lingering silence. "How do you-"

"Read the report from dad's desk." I lied through my rotting, decayed teeth.

He gave me a long, hard look, and then turned. "You need to mind your own business and keep your hands off mission reports. That's illegal."

Before I could say anything more on the matter, he disappeared into a swirl of leaves.

Why was it whenever I wanted to help someone I was left alone with fucking leaves?

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

I walked with Itachi to his shuriken training, arms behind my head and eyes closed. My ears were trained on Itachi's almost silent footfalls as a ways to follow him. Both of us knew he could walk without making even a slight noise, but he did it for my benefit.

It was fun to walk around with your eyes closed. I could feel the faint echo of chakra coming from the people around us, but I felt Itachi's most of all since I was most accustomed to his wavelength. The rest were nothing more than blobs of dull flames. Some I could vaguely recognize from school but didn't care enough to memorize.

The day was a particularly nice, even if there were a few clouds in the sky. The breeze was crisp in a way the sun wasn't. ' _Must be eclipsed by a massive cloud_.' I reasoned, unwilling to open my eyes at the moment and see for myself.

No matter. It could be pouring down raining and I would be at ease. I always enjoyed silent walks with Itachi.

Well, _almost_ silent. There were kids playing around, being obnoxiously loud and rowdy.

"Hey," a girl called out, "aren't you Itachi? An Uchiha in my class? Let's play together!" A high feminine voice called out.

I opened an eye in annoyance, stopping in my tracks. Was I invisible or somethin? "Do you know her, Tachi?" I asked him, silently judging the purple high-collared shirt the girl was wearing.

She _did_ look familiar from school, I noted. Probably another one of the fangirls. "Oh, you can join too! Uzumaki Akira wasn't it?"

So _now_ I wasn't invisible. I was the Kage's daughter, dammit! I deserved more attention.

"What do you want to do today?" a boy called out behind fangirl number 503.

"Kick the can! Let's play kick the can!" another answered excitedly, throwing an arm in the air.

My eyes fully opened when I realized Itachi hadn't answered my question. As a matter of fact, he hadn't even so much as paused in his walking. Rolling my eyes at how asocial he was, I turned, ready to catch up to my best friend.

"Sorry," I lied, "rain-check?" The boys she was hanging out with already hated me because I won most of the games they wanted to play. Games weren't games to me. They were _challenges_ , and I refused to fail to children.

"But…" the girl looked crushed as she looked after Itachi. I fought a smile.

"Huh? We played that yesterday." Another boy complained. "Izumi what do you want to play?"

One of the boys, a brunette in a mustard-yellow shirt must've noticed me and the walking figure that was the Uchiha Heir. He leaned on his friend with a pissy look on his face, eyes cutting. I could already feel the trouble, causing me to stay where I was just in case something happened.

"Hey!" yellow shouted at Itachi's back, "Are you dissing us?"

When they received no reply a spiky haired dude in green bent down, picked up a rock and threw it at him. It sailed past Itachi, thrown too far to the right.

Anger overcame me. "Yo, what do you think you're doing!?" I screamed to the group, raising a fist and walking toward them threateningly.

They all began throwing rocks at him now, jeering insults at my friends back. It made me shake with rage. I was about to hit who looked like the ringleader, but the girl got in my way. "Guys stop! That's not nice! Leave him alone!"

I scoffed in disgust. They weren't going to listen to her _telling_ him to stop. _Hn_. And this girl wanted to be a kunoichi? _'_ _She's just like_ _Rin,'_ I thought, sneering nastily at her.

Without warning, I shoved the girl aside and ran as fast as I could up to the boy in yellow and punched him in his solar plexus. While he bent down, gasping for air, I brought my knee up to meet his face. A satisfying _crack_ sounded as his nose broke.

Yellow stumbled to the ground, clutching his nose and crying.

At that same moment the spiky haired kid yelled, "Hey! _Don't_ _run_ _away!_ " and threw a rock that soared to its proper destination.

I watched in awe as my best friend expertly turned around, caught the rock and sent it back, creating a domino effect of rocks ricocheting off each other.

It was _so_ bad-ass in person.

The boys all paled slightly at the show of talent Itachi displayed. Yellow shirt groaned from his place on the ground, saying something about how I was a jerk but they ignored him.

With one last huff of annoyance, I straightened my shirt. My eyes met with the girl in a heated glare. She shied away from me as I sent an unrelenting kick to the crying fuck-head on the ground.

Itachi gave me a questioning look when I caught back up with him.

"Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

I trained my eyes ahead, unable to meet his gaze. "Like you're disappointed in me."

"…"

The rest of our walk was in spent in silence.

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

Violet eyes bore into those of the giant of a man standing across from her. Akira was trying (and failing) to keep the fangirl she kept buried deep inside of herself calm. It was but a losing battle because-

Holy shit.

That was _the_ fuckin' Jiraiya. The Pervy Sage. One of her _favorite_ characters of Naruto. She could have died again, and died happy, at that moment. She was on cloud nine.

Metaphorical stars shone in child's bright eyes.

Jiraiya himself was practically preening from the attention the child was giving him.

"Hey kiddo." He said in a deep baritone, "You sure have grown since I last saw you."

The feelings of euphoria dimmed like a flickering flame. Akira bit into her tongue, filling her mouth with the unpleasant taste of metal, in an effort to silence seething words. ' _Liar.'_

Not once, even as Jemma, had she _ever_ met this beautiful man. Of that, she was _positive_.

Minato mentioned once in passing how the man had been around when she in Kushina's belly, but the fact stood that her _Godfather_ was never around. He was nothing more than a stranger. Always out of the village, running away from his problems.

Her father had to _beg_ the man to stop by in order to ask for his blessing on naming his unborn child Naruto, just like the Child of Prophecy. The fact he only came to see the _male_ child of his student hurt.

Jiraiya was Minato's only father figure, since his own had died. Any time he would talk about his sensei, he held such an overwhelming sense of pride in his kindness and strength. In Minato's eyes, nothing could tarnish the perfect image of the strong Sannin. Not even being absent for his first child's life.

As the runner of this body, Akira had to play the part of a five-year-old. Children didn't have memories of being a newborn.

Her nose scrunched at her command, along with the commanding mask of a bratty child, "I've never met you before."

The statement made the man cringe, his hand moved to scratch the back of his head. ' _Gods his hand is huge. Like a bear paw.'_

The Sannin stood tall, a little over six feet—six-three, maybe? His shoulders were broad under the earthy tones of his short kimono styled shirt. The red shirt he wore over his clothes matched the markings under his eyes. Hair, as white as freshly fallen snow was pulled back into a low ponytail that reached past his hips in a spiky mass.

The length was reminiscent of her mother's own luscious mane. Definitely _nowhere_ as pretty, though. Red trumped white nine times out of ten.

When the man made no move to speak again, just look guilty and bashful, she spouted out the first thing that came to her tongue to change the tone of the conversation. "Your hair is pretty!" This day was for Naruto, not her own selfishness.

The icebreaker seemed to do the trick. His shoulders relaxed significantly, as the air around him became a bit less self-deprecating. "Eh? Really?" he took a few strands between his fingers and peered at them skeptically with dark eyes. "Most people complain about how unkempt it is…"

Mentally, Akira thought of her own mess of hair. A swift surge of defensiveness overwhelmed her with reckless, childish abandon. She clenched her fists to her chest and spoke passionately, "Well _I_ think it's nice. It reminds me of a pine tree in winter, _y'know_!"

Jiraiya barked out laughter, a jovial sound that echoed throughout her home. He put his huge, warm hand on her head and roused it about. "A wintry pine tree huh?" Her face burned from the attention as she sent him a wide smile that didn't feel so forced. "I think I like that comparison."

After a pause, Akira ducked under his hand and bounced around him in easily feigned excitement. "Do you wanna play a game?" she inquired, already making a beeline to the kitchen. A deck of cards lay in a drawer next to the fridge for easy access and safekeeping. She had another deck in her pack, but that was for outside use only.

Kushina stood at the stove clad in an apron, stirring what smelled like curry. _Yum._

The Toad Sage followed into the small space behind Akira, taking a seat at the dining table next to Minato, who sat reading a newspaper. "How is little baby Naruto these days, Kushina?" Jiraiya inquired. The chair creaked under his weight but stood strong. Akira made a mental note to write down the maker of the furniture in order to send them a nice letter.

Said woman turned to him, "He'd be better if _someone_ would quit having people follow me around the village." The radiant smile on her face battled with the biting tone of her voice. Minato sunk into his seat, raising his paper higher in a terrible attempt at hiding.

Jiraiya sent Akira a quizzical gaze that she returned with a shrug. " _Hormones_." she mouthed.

He nodded in understanding before clapping his hands together. "So, _Princess_ , what game were you thinking of playing? Go Fish?" Jiraiya asked flippantly.

Akira took the seat across from him, mindful of the snort coming from Minato and the look of pity Kushina shot her Godfather before turning back to dinner.

They knew her well.

"I am _not_ a _princess_ , I'm a _ninja_." She emphasized with a roll of her eyes, "We can play that _childish_ _game_ later, if you'd like. But for now…" the pause made him lean closer in anticipation, "we're playing _poker_." She revealed, expertly shuffling the cards between her small but nimble fingers.

Jiraiya stared at the girl blankly. After a long moment, his eyes roamed over to his student accusingly. "And you worried about _my_ influence on her? Sure she hasn't had the honor of meeting Tsunade- _hime_?"

Papa shrugged off the comments and went back to reading, completely ignoring his sensei.

"I'm not so easily influenced. It takes more than being exposed to a person to change my behavior." she droned, rolling her eyes playfully. "Now listen as I tell you the rules of the game, because I won't repeat them twice."

"Is that right?" he intoned, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Name your rules, _Princess_."

Akira grinned, a sparkle of mirth in her eyes. She couldn't wait to crush his small, manly feelings into dust. "Rule number One… _No ninja tricks_ …"

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

Akira stood outside of the Uchiha household, bouncing on her toes in excitement as she waited for someone to answer the door.

The second child of the Uchiha head had been born a few days ago and Akira wanted nothing more than to hold the tiny baby again. Sure, she had been there to help Mikoto give birth (an experience that would scar her for the rest of her days—who lets a _child_ help deliver a baby?) and was able to see the baby even before Itachi.

As customary of a child being brought into this world she was forced to stay away long enough to allow the family to settle in. Three days had never dragged on so long.

The door opened, revealing Mikoto's radiant, smiling face. She allowed the comforting and familiar spicy smell of the Uchiha household tickled her nose and surround her; allowing the tenseness she felt at staying away so long melt into nothingness.

"How did I know you would be showing up today?" Mikoto's voice was full of warmth and kindness.

Akira smiled sweetly. "Couldn't keep me away any longer even if you chained me to my bed." Her eyes drew together in worry, "Should you be up so soon?" It was a true testament to the woman's strength that she was mobile so soon. The kids monstrously giant head had practically torn the woman in half. There had been blood, tearing and _lots_ of screaming. From both the laboring woman _and_ Akira.

Mikoto shook her head. "I'm fine. A little sore, but the medic-nin healed me very well."

"Oh." She replied dumbly. Sometimes she forgot about the existence of healing chakra. Rin wasn't around anymore to heal her, so it was strictly up to Akira to bandage herself up the old fashioned way. Hospitals were a very last resort.

Shaking her head, the blonde leaned to look through the door. "So where is little Sasuke— _erh—_ I mean _Satsuki_?" I corrected quickly.

Yep. You read that right. Satsuki. Instead of a boy, Akira nearly had a stroke when Mikoto popped out a baby who was _missing their dick._ She had said as much, too.

" _I guess we were mistaken,"_ one of the nurses had said, _"Congratulations, Uchiha-sama. You've given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl!"_

It was a big fucking oversight if there ever was one. Sure, medicine wasn't as modern as the world she had originally come from, but from what the doctors said, they could tell the gender of the baby with 99 percent accuracy.

This was the first sign her existence has actually changed anything in this world and it _terrified_ her. What would this do to the future? What else was going to deviate from what Akira had thought was a set-in-stone path.

"She's with Itachi in the living room." Mikoto answered, drawing Kira from her thoughts. "Come in. I'll make you two a snack."

Akira nodded excitedly and entered the house, making a beeline to the living room. Itachi sat on the couch, a small bundle cradled against him and a book in his hands. He paused in his reading to look up, a serine smile on his lips.

"Your mother finally gave in?"

She snorted and sat down on the cushion next to him. "Of course. Persistence is a wonderful motivator my friend."

"So you annoyed her until she let you leave?"

"Obviously."

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

It was the day. October 10th had finally reared its ugly (beautiful) head.

Akira paced in front of her parents with her hands joined behind her back, thinking. The early morning sun shone brightly from the kitchen window like a fiery beacon of what was to come.

Though the day would turn out terrible—yet great because she'd _finally_ get to meet her baby brother—the weather was deceptively perfect. Not a single cloud collected in the sky.

"You're _sure_ there are enough ninja on hand to protect you? How many are going again?" she was wound up tight. Coiled like a spring, ready to shoot off at the slightest inconvenience.

Today could very well be the last day she would ever see her parents and she was cripplingly aware of it. It was a family affair; the times Papa planned where to take Kushina, which nurses would go with them and how many guards should be on duty. Kira would sit in with them, trying to make it so at least _one_ of them would come back to her.

It was selfish and would probably fuck up many things up in the future but… the thought of losing her parents was enough to make the reincarnated child not give a fuck. She wanted to hide them away in her closet and never let them out.

So other than straight up telling them about what would happen, she had done as much as she could. At least she _hoped_ so.

Papa let out a sigh over the scrambled eggs he was cooking on the stove for breakfast—' _was this going to be the last meal he made?'_ "There are _plenty_ sweetheart. It's a birth; not a mission."

"That thinking could get you killed." Akira commented seriously. "Mom and the seal will be _weak_ and Kurama, no matter how much I grudgingly respect him, could be released and _murder us all_." By the end of her speech, she was hyperventilating—uncaring how she crossed too far to the truth.

"Honey sit down and take some deep breaths before you pass out. You need to finish getting ready for class." Kushina said from her spot at the table. She was reading a weapons magazine, hand rubbing her swollen belly.

"I don't know why you insist on calling it by its name, let alone your strange professions. It is a beast, Akira. Not a puppy." Papa mumbled, scraping hard at the eggs in the pan.

Kira's eyes narrowed, "I never said he was a _puppy_. He's far too big to fit inside of the house. And if it's rude to call _Granny_ _Haichi_ an old hag, it's rude to call Kurama a beast or monster." she crossed her arms, nose in the air, " _Besides_ , Kakashi is a beast yet we all love _him_."

"You _do_ know that I can hear you, right?" Kakashi called from the other room.

Actually, she _did_ know. Not because he'd been hanging around their house the past few months like a ghost, but because she could sense him—something he allowed her to do at times to get practice.

Sensing was also the way she was able to strangle out the truth of Kushina being a jinchūriki. It all worked out rather well, if she were to say so herself. Kind of hard to miss a giant, malicious aura coming from your mom's chakra.

She had almost peed herself that day.

Akira faked surprise, "Oh you _are_? Kind of like you have been for the _past ten months_?"

Now, she knew what many thought: " _Wow Akira, you sure are sucking Kurama's giant, furry ass aren't ya? Do you need a straw?_ " And to that, she would clap and express how correct they were. She was laying it on _thick_ _as_ _fuck_.

Personally, when a super-over-powered fox was about to have a major part of ruining her life, the _last_ thing she would want is for it to loath her. Friendship wasn't her goal: survival was. Because like it or not, _he was about to be FUCKING UNLEASHED ON HER VILLAGE_.

"That's because Kakashi is a human, no matter how beastly." Minato turned around to jest, his smile wan.

No wonder Kurama hated him in the series… her Papa treated him as if he wasn't even a living creature, and wasn't afraid to voice it.

Stubbornly, Akira's rolled her eyes, "You have your opinions and I have mine. If I could, _I'd_ be his jinchūriki."

Both of her parents' attention fully turned to their daughter. She just drank her juice with the most innocent expression she could muster. ' _Hadn't meant to say that last part_ ,' she thought, trying not to cringe into another life.

Damn her unflinching ability to blurt out thoughts at the most inconvenient times. Kurama no doubt hated her now.

All of those months of sucking up were for naught.

The giant chakra beast would probably seek her out after Obito's control of him waned and murder her in the most painful way possible.

"Does this have to do with you being strong enough to protect Naruto, or do you have an ulterior motive in that brilliant head of yours?" Kushina asked with narrowed eyes.

Akira reared back, as if physically struck. Her voice was small and full of real hurt. "Do you really think that low of me?"

Papa just listened silently, back turned so he could finish breakfast. How had this conversation even taken this turn? When had she ever given them the impression she would have something like an _ulterior_ _motive?_ She was seven! They should just be brushing off the comment as a kid babbling nonsense as they usually did.

' _Jesus. They're acting as if I was planning to kill someone…'_ Which would have to happen to Kushina in order to become jinchūriki… She would have face-palmed if they weren't giving her such severe expressions.

"Not exactly… We just know that you are very _mature_ for your age." They shared a look. If _that_ didn't sound like it held a double meaning, she'd do thirty laps around the village. Sadly, whatever it was flew right over her head.

"That doesn't make me feel any better, nor does it explain the third degree." Akira argued.

"What your mother is trying to say," Papa placed a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of her, "is that we just want to make sure you have the right intentions. Making choices such as what you implied could very well lead you down the wrong path. Wanting to have an evil chakra beast inside of you raises more than a few red flags."

Akira shook her head. "I don't _need_ Kurama to make me stronger; I'm fully capable of becoming stronger on my own. The _only_ reason I said that is because mom struggle at times with control. Maybe he shouldn't be treated like a prisoner, or forcefully _control_ him. Maybe if we tried to _understand_ him and make some sort of a _bond_ —"

"Do you even hear yourself!?" mom shouted, interrupting Kira's loud mouth. It wasn't her hormones (which were making her more insane than normal), it was genuine anger. "The Nine-Tails is a _beast_. I don't need to create any form of silly bond to know all he wants to do is kill! _There_ _is_ _no understanding him!_ "

At this point, it wasn't even about kissing the Tailed Beast's ass—nothing struck her more than someone saying that she was wrong. What's worse was they didn't even _try_ to understand where she was coming from!

They didn't know Kurama was a lonely soul deep, deep, _deep_ down. Under the layers of hate and threats of slaughter. He didn't deserve to be considered as some mindless monstrosity. Him and all of the others like him were known to be capable of thinking for themselves and having emotions; isn't that what made someone human? The ability to _feel_? Hate and rage, though bad, were just that. _Emotions_.

Akira stood quickly and placed her hands on the tables surface. "How would _you_ feel if you were chained up, trapped inside of someone, _huh_? Maybe he _is_ right to hate us. What the hell have _we_ done for him? Use him for his power and keep him prisoner for just existing? If someone were to force me to do things against my will, I would wish to destroy them, too!"

" _Uzumaki-Namikaze Akira!_ You watch your language, young lady!" Kushina shouted back, taking the same stance as her daughter.

"Or what?" Kira challenged, "You'll ground me? Well, have fun grounding me when you end up _dead_ because _you won't take this seriously, y'know!_ " she deflated back into her seat, body shaking.

Kushina's face changed drastically, eyes softening. Kira thought she saw a spark of understanding. How the fuck could they even remotely understand?

"Is this about Obito and Rin?" Papa asked.

' _Jesus Christ. You couldn't be further from the truth.'_ Still. It was as perfect an excuse as any. She needed to diffuse the situation. It was about time Rin became of some use.

"Maybe," she whispered, looking to the ground. Akira was keenly aware of Kakashi's presence at that point. She had to be careful. While Kushina and Minato wouldn't survive and remember— _he_ _would_.

"Don't get me wrong; Obito died to save his friends, and Rin did what she had to for the good of the village but… That doesn't make it any more fair!" ironic, really, considering she couldn't give a fuck about Rin. Yet they treated her as if she were ignoring the pain of that dumb girls death, so Kira thought adding something in about her would help the lie.

Papa walked over to his daughter and put a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'll have more guards added to watching over your mom and brother."

"Really?"

He smiled down at her and for a moment, she felt as if the sun were beaming down on her, warm and assuring. "If it makes you feel safe, of course."

Akira returned his smile and then pounced at him in a hug. "I love you guys s _o_ _much, y'know_."

Dad chuckled and held her closer. "We love you too, Wildfire. More than you could ever know."

Sniffiling noises coming from the table interrupted the moment. Father and daughter looked to each other in confusion before glancing toward Kushina. Tears ran tracks down her cheeks like raindrops.

 _Hormones were nothing to joke about…_

* * *

oOoOoOoOo

* * *

"So, Kakashi. Where we goin'?"

Said boy let out a long, suffered sigh. Since he had been hanging around our house so much, Minato thought it a good idea to have the silver-haired teen watch over me while Kushina gave birth.

Later, I would go to the Uchiha house and spend the night. He didn't seem happy about it in the least. If anything I was sure he resented me for living at this moment.

I thought it was _great_. He was a slippery little fucker. No matter how hard I tried, he refused to read to me, let alone spend time together. He treated me like the plague, and it hurt.

"Bookstore, maybe."

My head tilted in thought. "So… We _aren't_ going to go visit Obito?" I asked, curious.

He shrugged, "If you want to we can. Not like I don't have to put up with you for the next four hours."

"Try not to sound so excited," I replied tonelessly. "Please, your enthusiasm is contagious."

A few hours and a couple of new books later we were on our way to the graveyard. With a little pestering, Kakashi bought me two flowers to put at our dead loved one's graves.

When we finally arrived at Rin's grave, I stood silently as Kakashi set to work on cleaning it up. It was a custom I thoroughly enjoyed. The idea of the dead looking down on us as we clean their eternal resting spot, made me feel warm and fuzzy.

Which was exactly why I refused to help clean Rin's.

Kakashi held out an expectant hand once he was finished. I complied, handing him the yellow rose I had picked for Useless. With care, he placed it in the metal vase in front of the grave marker.

I clapped my hands together in a short prayer that she would burn in hell, and then made my way to Obito's grave. I left before Kakashi so he could have a little bit of _alone_ time to speak to his teammate. He did not seem to mind.

If I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was just trying to get out of more cleaning.

My feet drifted toward the familiar destination. I had been to Obito's grave plenty of times, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of him in the trees. _Anything_ to let me know he was well. Something to prove he was alive, because if Sasuke could go through such a drastic change, what was stopping it from truly killing Obito?

Sure, he would be the bad guy. It would be stupid to hold any thoughts of redemption considering his livelihood. Didn't stop me from remembering the boy he used to be, though. Bright, smiling and warm.

A tear fell from my eyes. I missed him so much. In the beginning, I had _loathed_ him. Wanted him to die, even. Then he tore those feelings apart, destroying them and leaving nothing but love and affection. He was the brother I never had, and never would have again.

I sighed at how dirty the stone had gotten in such a short amount of time and went to work wiping the dirt off and scrubbing it until it reflected the rays of the sun. _'Just like him.'_ I mused.

"There," I started, clapping my hands together, "all nice and clean."

Then, with the utmost care, I took the remaining rose from my bag and placed it in the empty vase. My breath caught— _There!_ In the distance, I felt a tickle of a familiarity. It made my heart skip about ten beats. Along with that evasive speck, I could sense Kakashi coming my way.

A nagging feeling began itching in the back of my mind. This felt terribly _familiar_.

"So you're the one that leaves red roses at his grave." Kakashi's voice spoke from behind me.

"Duh. I love him… _Bakashi_." I muttered, my face heating slightly since I knew we had an audience. The sun was setting.

"Haven't heard _that_ nickname in a while." He said with annoyance clear in his voice.

I stayed quiet, mind focused firmly on that far off signature. Mentally, I filed it away; searing it into my memory as to never forget it.

"I'm sorry." he mumbled after a lengthy silence.

My eyes raised to Kakashi, "For what?"

He shifted uncomfortably and looked away, as if ashamed. As if he was guilty of the worst crime imaginable. Understanding filled me.

"Oh shut up." I said sharply. "He died protecting you—someone he cared for—that is the noblest death imaginable. And… Even if he _did_ survive… I doubt he would be the same. Especially after Rin..."

"If he survived, Rin would still be here as well." Kakashi protested, voice firm and full of self-loathing at the same time.

I turned to him fully, head tilting to this side. "What exactly do you think he would have accomplished? By the time you got to Rin, she had already become a weapon for someone else. If Obito were with you, then _both_ of you would have to of witnessed Rin's suicide—because we both know, she would have found a way no matter what. His heart would've shattered and—" I stopped, realizing how much I had said already that was actually very close to how things truly were.

 _Run, run, run._

Kakashi was now openly staring at me with a narrowed eye. I had to get away from him—them—before I said something more that would raise suspicion.

"For someone who only read a file, you seem to know quite a lot about it."

I directed my attention to the village, refusing to meet his eye now that he was suspicious. "Don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything …"

"That's not how it seems."

"…"

"There's something that has been bothering me for a long time now." Said Kakashi.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. My hands became clammy. He couldn't possibly know. I needed to calm down and reassess the situation, or leave it altogether.

"I didn't write that Rin used me to end her life on the report."

' _Ohshitohshitohshit—'_

"I'll leave you to speak to him alone." My words were rushed and high. I began walking away, but he followed.

"Where will you go?" his voice was sharp. Accusing. _Suspicious_.

I shrugged, uncaring, and shoved my hands in my pockets. "A store to buy Naruto something. I'll be a big sister soon. First impressions are important, not that you would understand that concept." Couldn't say that I needed to do something that _didn't_ involve dead people or his hounding the truth of who I truly was. Soon my parents would be nothing more than dead.

Come nightfall, it would only be Naruto and me.

My heart beat rapidly in the confines of my chest so quick it hurt. Just a few more steps and I would be away from him and this conversation. Everything would go back to normal. He would treat me like a sickness—

" _Jemma._ " His voice reached me across the distance I had put between us; a question and a statement in one.

I froze. _'no.'_ There was a long moment where my chest constricted at being recognized as a person for the first time. The part of Jemma I could never rid myself of was shoved away like acid.

Outwardly calm, I turned my head far enough so he could read my lips, though I was sure he enhanced his hearing in order to hear me clearly. It would be the last I ever spoke to him of in regards to _that name._ "No. _**She's dead**_."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Kakashi standing rigid, hand reaching for his weapons pouch. The sun finished its decent behind the horizon, casting shadows along the ground where headstones stood. They reached out to me greedily to bring me six feet under, then past. All the way down until I reached the deepest, darkest depths of hell.

I had underestimated him. _'never again.'_ I promised myself. Never again would I underestimate another person in this life. Not for the first time, I wished I didn't know so much.

His mouth opened, but before he could form words, there was a monstrous roar so loud it sent shock-waves through the crust of the earth. The world _exploded_.

* * *

…

 **END**

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thank you to EVERYONE who left me reviews on the last chapter. You're the reason this one has come out so quick! I appreciate all 157 of my followers for joining me in this journey. Hope this chapter was worth the wait!**

 ****An even more special thanks to _SarahFanaFanta_ for your words of encouragement 3 I am always so nervous to post chapters. It's always worried me that my writing is horrible, but I'll never get better if I do nothing. **

***Someone asked me if there was a set update schedule... Ehhh, I'm trying my best to get something out every month, but my inspiration comes and goes.**

 _ ***Minato's reaction will be next chapter! :D ***_

 **Have a wonderful week everyone!**

 **~Siren 5/27/19**


	8. Chapter 8: Falling Apart

_**A/N: Sorry for any errors**_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Falling Apart:**

If there was one thing Namikaze Minato prided himself on it would be his ability to maintain his composure in even the most stressful and hopeless of situations.

How many times had he been on the battlefield, cutting down enemy ninja down like trees without expression? Was there even a number in his mind of the amount of his friends he watched be cut down similarly, or number to those he felt die in his arms?

Every time he kept a level head.

Through tears and immense sadness—even as enemies taunted him with cruel words and harsh realities. He remained indifferent as they gave him all of the information needed to complete a mission. Straight faced all the way to when the battle would reach its apex and he'd disappear in a flash of yellow. Only to reappear behind them, kunai slicing thought the tender skin of their necks.

He was a shinobi—a damned good one at that. His name alone instilled fear though _armies_. They called him Konoha's Yellow flash: a moniker he murdered hundreds— _thousands_ for.

Yes. He was the best of the best. Cunning, strong and intelligent—a prodigious genius amongst his peers. So why— _why—_ was it that a simple report from his students made his well-maintained image crumble into a million pieces?

In his mind, he could visualize every single bruise that blossomed on his daughters' skin. Various shades of blue, purple in yellow tainting her pale skin. He saw the brave smile she put on for him before it crumbled into a cringe as he lathed healing ointment on her scraped hands. How her eyes, once wide with wonder at the world around her shifted in crowds, looking for some hidden enemy.

Something in him _snapped._ A silent yet resounding break he felt down to his very core. Positive was he that the burning rage he was barely able to control had enough force to take down Mount Myoboku.

He sent his team on a simple mission: watch his precious daughter as she walked to the Uchiha compound on her own for the first time. Minato wasn't blind to the obvious distaste the Uchiha Clan had toward their heir's friendship with Akira, yet he never imagined a turn of events that would lead her into the unkind hands of pain.

Fugaku promised her safety from his clan (they were quite an emotional bunch, though their outward behavior would say different) yet not even _that_ could have protected her. They had talked about it in detail, him and Fugaku. The Clan Head gave express orders that no harm would fall on the small blonde.

But children were hard to control (he would know.)

Kushina was convinced Minato's well-hidden paranoia was rearing its ugly head the morning he informed her of his decision. She said as much as she tried arguing against it. Akira craved independence. Already she was going to great lengths to grow up too fast, and it bothered him.

It was no secret the day they almost lost Akira haunted him. Even now, the gut retching sound of the heart monitor flat lining was just barely out of reach. Tickling at the tip of his senses. He heard it in his sleep when the nightmares of missions gone wrong woke him at night. It wrung through him while walking through the forest, or even while standing next to Akira herself. A banshee sitting on his chest as he sat dutifully at her bedside as she slept; hand on her chest to feel her beating heart.

There was no denying it stung how even behind the very walls that were meant to keep his village, his _family_ , safe, she so clearly _wasn't._

His mind was alight with 'If's'. What would have happened had one of those rouge ninja escaped and word got around that the Yellow Flash had a daughter? Worse: that she was a descendant of the main branch of the Uzumaki Clan? The thought alone chilled him to the bone.

An abrupt sneeze brought Minato back to his body. Blue eyes refocused back to the present. In front of him, the uncomfortable forms of his students greeted him.

All three looked ashamed—at least two did. Kakashi looked outright frustrated; with his arms crossed and brows furrowed, so deep a wrinkle was present between them.

Minato realized he needed to focus on the _now_ , not the millions of horrible possibilities that could destroy his beloved family. There was a lesson to be taught, and he was their teacher.

The fact was—no matter how much he tried to reject the possibility—his team had failed. Not just the mission, but _him_ , too.

A secret part of Minato wanted to laugh. Failure was a concept the blonde man had very little experience with. Yes, he had failed as a father to protect one of his most precious people, his own _flesh and blood_ , but as a ninja— _a teacher_ —this was a different territory. He never failed as a sensei before.

And he loathed the feelings that came with it.

The anger came back, but before he could fully unleash it upon his students, Kakashi raised his hand. Minato's mind blanked, before clambering back together. These were _children_ , even if they were ninja. They didn't deserve to be treated like the enemy… He didn't have to be particularly kind, either.

"Yes, Kakashi?" the bite in his voice made all three flinch.

Said silverette cleared his throat before standing completely at attention, ever the perfect ninja. "I'd like to bring to attention that this mishap was _entirely_ Obito's fault."

" _Hey!_ "

He continued, ignoring the Uchiha's sounds of resentment. "If we had stayed on the course of the mission instead of pausing to help an old lady cross the street, we wouldn't have lost the Br—I mean _Akira_ —in the first place."

"As if I'm the only one to blame you bastard! If _you—"_

" _Enough!_ " the two boys stiffened at the commanding tone their sensei's voice took, one he only used in the field. "When a mission is failed, it falls upon the entire team, not individuals." Minato's eyes cut to Obito as he went on relentlessly, "Your inability to fight your need to help others jeopardized the mission, and later you let your emotions get the better of you. If this were the frontlines, your recklessness would have put the entire team in eminent danger."

Obito clutched his fists, "But-"

The Yellow Flash went on, ignoring him to look to their only female teammate. "Rin. Trying to diffuse an already out of control situation is unacceptable. You're a _ninja_ , and while I don't condone useless violence, your passive stance caused the person you were hired to protect to get hurt and allowed the attackers to go unpunished.

"And you…" he turned to his final student, disappointment in his eyes "taking to the sidelines and refusing to intervene is just as bad as doing the act yourself. As the teammate with the most experience of the three of you, I expected much more out of you. When your teammates lose focus of the objective, in the field you're trained to _act._ Not stand by and watch your fellow comrades make complete fools of themselves. You may try to shift accusations toward the others, but you have failed just as much as them."

Kakashi let out of noise of annoyance, turning his head away from his sensei and teammates.

Rin looked close to tears. "I… I'm sorry Minato-sensei…"

Relentless blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, _you will be_." Minato turned his back to his students, not missing how they flinched in unison. "Survival training for a week in the Forest of Death. The war is becoming too much of an issue to be away any longer, but while we are still in the village, you three will be restricted to D-ranks until Lord Third has us go on our next mission."

The blonde turned back to his students, shoulders slumped, expression sad and pained. "I'm only doing this for your own good. Right now, I'm just too disappointed to even give you Hell-Training. You're dismissed."

* * *

"Reach into your chakra core. Move the chakra from there throughout your body like water, leaving pieces of it at every tenketsu point you pass."

Akira listened to her mother's soft but commanding voice as if it were a goddess speaking gospel to her soul. Her chakra was difficult to manipulate as her mother instructed. It wasn't as liquid as she claimed her own to be.

It was stubborn and erratic. Flowing its own trajectory and life force. A living organism laying just under her skin that wished to break free. To be unleased.

The work was slow and exhausting. Not for the first time Akira thought of how pointless it was.

According to Kushina, not every Uzumaki could access the latent power inside of them. Moreover, even if one _could_ , that didn't mean they could magically use it without cost.

Chakra chains, like many clan doujutsu, (similar to the Uchiha and Hyuga) was something _every_ Uzumaki was capable of unlocking. Dormant until the proper training was given and precautions taken.

Most branch Uzumaki could use them once unlocked, but with how different and unique the chains were to each person, it was dangerous and thankless task. Some chains took too much chakra, and while Uzumaki tended to have that in spades, sometimes it was just _too much._

Being able to access them and _use them_ were two entirely different things. Many died of exhaustion, especially in battle, for that very reason. In most cases, the extreme will to _protect_ was enough to unleash them. Few, like her mother, were just naturally gifted.

Uzumaki chakra chains were an extension of their user when unleased, with abilities differing from one person to the next. Kushina's own suppressed chakra; something only a rare few main members had. Notably, clan heads.

Letting out a focusing breath, Akira felt deep within herself, searching for padlock that would lead to her own. After hours she finally reached her back, where a strange sensation of _something_ made zaps of energy go down her spine. She let out a long sigh and explained it to her mom.

Kushina's face lit up. "Just like your grandmother! Her chains were mostly combative, though. Able to carve into stone—something that aided in the seals of which surrounded the village—and _very_ dangerous. She could also pulverize boulders without much thought… A frightening woman indeed." Her mother jumped at her, engulfing her with a huge hug, "This is so exciting, _y'know!_ "

And with that thought in mind, Akira felt a wave of hope. Hope that maybe, some day, she wouldn't be so defenseless. That with her own chains, she'd be able to protect, instead of be protected.

* * *

Her lungs burned like molten lava in her chest as she ran through the streets of Konoha.

All around her there were screams. The air around her was filled with dust from the chaos. There was even the faint tang of metal on her tongue, but she pushed those thoughts far back into her mind.

A shout of fear sounded ahead of her and, as if in slow motion, Akira watched in horror as a cluster of houses blow away like dandelions in the wind. She threw herself into an alley the moment the devastation pulsed outwards. Debris and bodies flew past in a roar of motion and noise that made her ears ring and tears stream down her dirty cheeks.

She crouched down and held her hands over her ears, screaming as loud as she could, as if the act itself would make everything go back to normal. Her hair blew around wildly as poles, dirt and pieces her village flew past the walls that kept her safe.

When the world was still once more, she stood on shaking legs and peaked around the bricks. She let out a shout when she caught sight of a person, impaled by a large piece of beaming from a house.

He was still alive. Struggling to move, mouth gaping over in silent screams— _his lungs must have been punctured_ , she thought.

Akira bit her lip as she moved out of her hiding place. Catching the eye of the dying man—a literal eye (the other dangled from an empty socket, jerking around with his tense movements) she made her way toward him. he was all pleading looks, but she was unsure what he wanted. Was he begging for death? Or maybe life? No one wanted to die. It was human nature to want to live.

When she was but a few scant steps from him, a large slab of concrete fell, slamming into the ground where he once was. There was a sickeningly wet crunch as blood splattered outward, striking across her face in angry red lines.

Akira didn't scream this time. She just stared at the arm peeking out from under the brick, reaching toward her.

Falling back on her but she scrambled away as fast as her limbs allowed, turning to the side just in time to empty her stomach of its contents. In her erratic confusion, she inhaled some of the bile and coughed until her head felt light and her eyes stung.

A shadow fell over her for a split second before she was tackled from the side. Her and her attacker rolled for a few feet before hitting against a nearby wall. The ground shook. Her vision swam.

Akira went rigid when a hand clasped onto her shoulder. This time, she did scream, swatting blindly into any flesh she could reach ( ** _empty eyes and a wide smile_** _)_ until her wrists were caught in a vise-like grip.

"HEY!" a firm voice called out, breaking around the edges. Not the voice of a man. It was then Kira realized her eyes were clasped tight.

She blinked the crud from her vision and saw red, glowing eyes. "Stop struggling, idiot!

As if on instinct, her body listened. The silence left between them was tense. Shock registered in her mind. _She knew that face_.

"Good. Now, get up and follow me. It's too dangerous out here, you need to get to the-" The Uchiha's sentence abruptly cut off when a faraway voice screams for backup. His head snapped to the side to listen, making his curly black hair sway with the motion.

He turned back to her. " _Shit_. I have to go. Head to the nearest Safe Zone and don't stop for anything. Do you hear me?" she nodded affirmation and just as fast as he arrived, Shisui disappeared.

His appearance stunned her in more ways than one. In a moment of clarity, Akira stood. Her legs still shook, but she could manage. She let out a shaky breath, wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up to the daunting visage that was Kurama. He was far away, but his size made him easy to spot from miles away.

When shit hit the fan, Kakashi was called in to help the villagers to their respective Safe Zones. Ninja business mattered more than some kid, even if said kid was the daughter of the Hokage, it seemed. Akira was fine with that now, though. He would have never allowed her out of his sights if he knew the thoughts running through her mind.

Much as Shisui had done, Kakashi barked at her to go to her neighborhoods checkpoint where a ninja would be waiting to citizens and children to the safest route to the underground catacombs that lead to bunkers within Konoha's walls.

Akira, though, had no plans to head toward safety. In fact, now that her mind was cleared of the fog, it didn't even cross her mind to listen to him. How could she when there was a Kurama-sized death cloud lurking over her parents?

It was stupid. Reckless. Suicidal, even. But she _had_ to save them. The need to protect the first people she had ever met in this world ran deep into her marrow. So even though she was petrified, she knew what she had to do. Like a faint whisper in her ear.

Akira sat down, legs crossed and meditated in the middle of madness. She ignored the possibility of death from her still position and cleared her mind. Seeking. Searching.

Soon, she was sitting in front of a familiar red orb of flames. The chakra that gave her life. Her connection to _him._

Slowly, she stood in her mindscape. A meditative state settling over her, one that felt _right._ She reached toward a collection of stings that spread from her body.

 _I need to know…_

Violet eyes slid close as her fingertips brushed against the thin pieces of chakra. One thought echoed through her mind. A question. A silent plea.

 _Where?_

Her answer was answered in billions of whispering voices.

The Earth, even if it had yet to occur, remembered _everything._ Concepts like time did not exist in the very soil of the earth. It was an old Sage that knew all that was, all that could and all that would happen.

One string wrapped around her hand and _tugged_. Not wasting any time, Akira jumped into action. The strings in her mind was like a guide as the Earth directed her on where to go. It came in fragmented pieces. A nudge here, a push there. Some were barely distinguishable in the calamity that fell around her, but her connection to the strings kept her in line.

It lead her to a ruined piece of the great wall surrounding the village. The area was just large enough for her to squeeze through. The whispers took her on a journey of endless trees that became a maze. They looked the same to her eyes.

There was no telling how far she ran, but just when her legs were about to give, she entered a clearing. The strings dispersed into a million twinkling lights that resembled fireflies that sank back to the ground.

 _Thank you_ , she thought.

The longer she stood there specks of doubt crawled up her throat. What if she was wrong? What if this wasn't the place she needed to be?

Her answer came in the form of chakra so thick, so malicious and _so close_ that she fell to her knees, body vibrating in **_fear._ **The clouds that accompanied many jutsu choked her. She was both hot and cold. Hot and Cold. _Hot and cold. **HOT AND COLD-**_ the fog lifted.

Idly Akira noted the sodden warmth between her legs. Half mortified, she realized she had pissed herself, but the feeling was swept away in the ever-growing horror she felt at the sight of a skyscraper-sized humanoid-fox towering above her like a God.

Nine furiously flicking tails uprooted a forest's worth of trees.

When he roared, it was so loud she was sure her ears would bleed. The orange beast— _Kurama_ —eclipsed the night sky. He was anger and death incarnate.

Akira wanted to do many things. Running the fuck away being at the top of that list. But she wouldn't— _no._ She _couldn't._ Not with so much on the line.

She fought every warning her body threw at her to run and hide and began crawling, all the while sobbing like a newborn baby. A short distance away, she watched as Minato and Kushina appeared in another poof of smoke.

The sight of them gave her a needed push of courage. She got up and stumbled on jelly legs, reaching toward them but too afraid to speak. As if sensing her gaze, Kushina turned to her. Blood leaked from the corners of her mouth while deep, dark bags stood out stark against her too-pale complexion.

Akira fumbled to them with an outstretched hand, even as her mother let out a wail at the sight of her. " _No! Run away!_ "

Kushina's pleas fell on deaf ears.

As Akira single-mindedly ran, she watched as her parents yelled between each other before Papa looked her way in alarm. Akira hardly had the time to process the fact that a piece of the burning, twisted chakra of Kurama's was heading her way. It came at her, fast and sure as death. Unbearable white-hot _pain **pain** pain—oh God **WHY?!**_ Seared its way deep across her back.

The scream that exited her was so loud her voice box felt close to rupture and render her mute. She writhed on the ground, unable to think coherently. Even when warm arms wrapped around her and the air was forcefully sucked from her lungs, she was lost in a world of desolate agony.

As sweet oxygen came back, her eyes bulged. There were doubles of doubles.

Akira watched numbly as Kushina's back burst in magnificent gold light, awed at how even on deaths door, her mother looked downright fierce. A true warrior. She watched as the chains shot out, encircling a large perimeter and swung around the Nine-Tails, bringing him to a stop.

The redhead collapsed to her hands out of exhaustion, globs of blood splashing on the ground from her mouth.

"-at are you doing here!?" Minato growled behind her as a pressure pushed at her back, making her cry out again.

Stupid as it sounds, that was the moment Akira realized she'd been injured. That giant orange bastard _attacked_ her. And— _goddamn donkey balls this HURTS._

Kushina was beginning a new wave of tears. "Is she okay? Tell me she will be okay! Minato!?"

"I-I don't know. The cut isn't that deep, but it- it's also _burning_ her." His voice had lost all of its ire, now replaced with panic and confusion as his mind whirled.

Akira threw up, the pain too much for her body to handle. It bubbled up her throat and burned her nose.

" _Fuck_ ," – _did her father just_ _cuss—_ "the Kyuubi's chakra is _poisoning_ her." Her father finally spoke, voice distant and strained.

The world tipped when the burning came back tenfold. Her throat was raw from overuse, making her unable to voice her screams, body convulsing. She was pulled into Minato's arms. A hand touched her cheek, causing her to look up into tired eyes the color of the sky. Her favorite eyes.

He spoke, but there was no sound. She watched as his lips moved, and somehow she knew what was coming next.

Everything went dark, but not before a scalding pain reached around her insides like a vacuum and _pulled._

 _"I'm so sorry my Wildfire."_

* * *

 _"You are where you were meant to be." A baritone voice echoed in the darkness._

* * *

There was a steady beeping. It never changed in pace and never stopped. Which was good. She was afraid what would happen if it were to cease again.

After all, **_there wasn't another child's body for her to take._**

* * *

 _"I have given you the means to live, to change the fate of the world and mold it into your own. Now; you must survive."_

* * *

Scolding hot chakra filled her until it threatened to burst her at the seams. She didnt know where it ended and she began. It was an inferno. It was restless. It was _enraged._

It swore and knew nothing but hatred and the need of slaughter. To kill until there was nothing left. Maybe there _was_ nothing left.

* * *

"But… what if I don't want to?" she called out to the void.

* * *

Akira sat at the edge of a pond, spine straight and trembling. To say she was terrified would be an understatement.

Hot breath from behind her mused her hair and scorched her already scarred and blistered skin. She refused to look into the ponds reflection, afraid of the truth—afraid of what she'd see.

Before, in her mind, she was in an empty white room with her flaming ball of chakra to keep her company. Not anymore.

A whimper escaped her as the water rose from the pond, and with it, its reflective surface. The world of her mind refused to allow her to reject reality. It wouldn't allow her to shove this away like she did with everything else.

The blisters on her back burst, leaving sizzling liquid to ooze down her exposed body. For some reason, she was naked. Stripped of all her walls and ashamed. The water did not stop at her will, nor did the oppressive force that breathed down her back disappear.

She thought scornfully about how she had _asked_ for this. How she had been so casual to her mothers suffering.

Akira had never been more wrong in her life—had never felt the pull of regret drag her down to drown her so thoroughly.

With great reluctance, she looked up into the mirror-like waters. The color drained from her already pasty face. Behind her, a slit pupil surrounded by an iris the color of freshly spilled blood towered an eye ten times her size. The dark burnt-orange fur that surrounded it stood in stark contrast to the veined whites of the sclera.

Only bars separated them.

 ** _"Welcome back to the world of the living you miniature pile of mortal shit. Come closer so I can have the joy of feeling your guts grinding between my teeth!"_**

* * *

 _There was sadness in his voice as he replied without mercy. "You've no choice."_

* * *

 **When you connect to the silence within you, that is when you can make sense of the disturbance going on around you."**

 **\- Stephen Richards**

* * *

 **THIS STORY IS ALMOST AT 200 FOLLOWERS. WHAT TH K**

 **Thank all of you for all of your kind reviews! They mean _so much_ to me. Been going through some life changes and dark times, and seeing that there are people that get joy from my crap fics makes me dance around and smile like an idiot. (was actually at work a few times and got strange looks). **

**Any ideas on where you guys think this story is going or want it to go? I have pretty much everything planned out, but it could always be subject to change ;)**

 **If you would like to know when I update, follow the story (or me). If you liked it, review and favorite!**

 **Until next time (which hopefully isn't going to be months away... again.)**

 **~Siren.**


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